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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23453197">I Needed You So Badly</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholymango/pseuds/melancholymango'>melancholymango</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sugardaddy Keith Shenanigans [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bonding Moment Gone Wrong! Forgotten!, Camboy Lance (Voltron), Daddy Kink, Drunken Kissing, Edging, Established Adam/Shiro (Voltron), First Meetings, Flirting, Keith (Voltron) is Horny, Lance (Voltron) in Lingerie, Lance (Voltron) is a Tease, M/M, Masturbation, Overstimulation, Porn Watching, Porn With Plot, Secret Identity, Sex Toys, Sexting, Tattoo Artist Keith (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:40:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>35,314</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23453197</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholymango/pseuds/melancholymango</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hunk, don’t look now, be discreet about it... but there’s a really fucking hot guy sitting in your kitchen. I think it’s love at first sight.”</p>
<p>For a traitorous few seconds, something ugly rears itself in Keith’s chest and he wonders who just walked into the kitchen and stole Lance’s attention so thoroughly. But when he risks a sneaky glance up, it confirms that it’s still just the three of them in the room, and now Hunk is looking his way too with a sheepish sort-of smile. Keith practically crumples the plastic cup with how hastily he brings it to his lips, downing the last half of his drink all at once.</p>
<p>“Lance, I’m pretty sure he can hear you.”</p>
<p>“Good. Let him. Maybe he’ll take the hint and come introduce himself.” </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>aka the one where Keith's heart is stolen in equal halves by the cute drunken idiot he meets at a party named Lance, and the unfairly sexy and anonymous nsfw blogger named Leandro.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sugardaddy Keith Shenanigans [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687180</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>831</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Needed You So Badly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello and welcome to another episode of Kali's Too Much Gene. There will FOR SURE be another addition to this series as I already have it written, so subscribe and/or follow me on twitter @redgaysonly for updates. After that I imagine there will be an eventual third part. Along with maybe random smut oneshots in this universe bc there are so many kinks I DIDN'T get to explore in the 100k I've already written???</p>
<p>AnYwAY, this has been in the works since OCTOBER and was written for @eggyeggplant on twitter. Thanks for the FUN idea, thanks for the excuse to finally write a proper sugardaddy/daddy kink fic, and thank you for helping me where's waldo all (most?) of the plotholes in this bad boy before we sent it out into the world.</p>
<p>I hope y'all enjoy! The second part is where the BULK of the plot and getting together happens, this is just the prequel, if u will</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith isn’t a porn guy. That feels like an important piece of information to preface this with. </p>
<p>The fact of the matter is, Keith rarely masturbates and when he does, he gets the job over with without any fuss. Fast and erring on the edge of being rough enough to hurt afterward, but he needs it to be overwhelming and too much, otherwise he can’t get there on his own. Most times he doesn’t even waste the time it’d take to grab lube, he just… spits in his hand and does the deed. Wipes off. Goes on with his life.</p>
<p>He doesn’t need anything visual to get him going. He never has. At first, because he didn’t have access to it, and later when he did, he’d already had his own sexual experiences and he could smell from a mile away how fake and exaggerated porn actually was. It never felt<em> real </em>to him, so it was impossible to find any satisfaction in it.</p>
<p>So would someone, <em> anyone </em>, please explain to him why he’s fishing his debit card out of his wallet right now? As he lays here, stretched out in his bed, naked as the day he was born, illuminated only by the screen of his laptop where it’s settled on the flat of his bare chest. </p>
<p>Keith doesn’t<em> watch </em> porn, let alone fucking pay for it. </p>
<p>This feels like a low moment in his life, as he enters the numbers one by one, using one finger across the keyboard as his entire body trembles. He’s so pent-up and horny it isn’t funny, can feel the heat pulsing beneath his skin, can feel the strain of his cock where it’s begging to be touched. A short clip of audio from the video is playing on loop from another tab on his browser, from before he’d clicked the link and been taken to the poster’s blog.</p>
<p>The man’s moans sound fucking <em> angelic </em>. </p>
<p>The confirmation symbol pops up on the screen and Keith feels like he could come from that alone, it’s such a blatant relief. All he knows is that he desperately needs to see the rest of the video. It’d appeared on his twitter feed unwarranted, from some stupid horny gay he follows (Adam. It was Adam. Keith knows who it was, but he isn’t about to admit that he’s getting off to a video that his older brother’s on-again-off-again boyfriend shared. That feels weird). </p>
<p>He’d nearly scrolled right past the second he saw the sheer amount of bare skin on display, knowing immediately where it was going. But something had his finger hesitating on the touchpad, lingering there and watching as the man on screen smoothed his hands down the length of his tan torso. They traveled further down, down to the hard cock between the stranger’s legs, and Keith belatedly noted that his entire body was as completely smooth and hairless as his chest.</p>
<p>And then, without any of the blatant debauchery that Keith had been promised, the man bent over just enough to show the curve of his cocky smirk… and the preview clip had cut off to a link to the full video.</p>
<p>Which, Keith isn’t an idiot, he immediately dismissed the idea of clicking a strange link attached to a porn clip. And with that, he’d started to scroll along again, trying to forget the entire video. He lasted all of two minutes before scrolling back up and clicking on the original poster’s profile. He wouldn’t buy the video and click a strange link, obviously, but what was the harm in checking out the dude’s twitter page?</p>
<p>The harm was immediate and immense.</p>
<p>According to the profile, the dude’s name was Leandro. The profile icon was a photo of his shirtless torso, with a very implicative white substance dripping over his pecs. And finally, there was a bullet point bio written beneath it, that informed Keith of the usual things like age and links to other social medias, as well as less normal things, like Leandro’s <em> kinks </em> and <em> sexual preferences </em>. Three years younger than Keith, bisexual, switch, and out of the list of kinks Keith reckons he recognizes about two: praise and bondage.</p>
<p>Damn it, it was all so blatantly cheesy and Keith wanted so badly to be above it all… but he wasn’t. He’d been reeled in like a fish on a hook from the tease of a seven second video clip and now here he was, buying a completely different video from the first one he’d found, after scrolling through the profile long enough to get hard and to realize that he wasn’t going to be able to sate himself with the previews he was being given of these videos.</p>
<p>Which brings us back to the present, where Keith is pathetically gripping his cock around the base and watching as his video of choice loads on his shitty wifi. And why oh why has he chosen this video? Surely he has to have a good reason for why he <em> finally </em>caved and decided to cash out real hard-earned money on porn for the first time in his life?</p>
<p>Nope. He bought it because<em> Leandro </em> was wearing a skirt in the thumbnail. It’s pretty, pleated and plaid, schoolgirl-style, with black lace garters underneath that grip tight around the middle of each smooth tan thigh. He looks so damn fuckable it should be a crime.</p>
<p>The video starts at the beginning and it’s slow-going. Leandro is actually fully-dressed in a schoolgirl uniform at the start, with cute little heels and a white button-up shirt to match. It hugs his body tightly, even as his face stays frustratingly out of frame. But Keith isn’t a patient person when it comes to getting off, and even this newfound curiosity isn’t enough to change that. So he skips ahead, seeks out the part of the video that’d been teased in the preview so he can continue watching from exactly where it left off, and he finally starts to stroke himself when he finds it.</p>
<p>Leandro is shirtless now and straddling a white pillow, skirt still on and falling elegantly to cover his ass from the view of the camera, but the same can’t be said for his flushed cockhead where it keeps peeking out from beneath the fabric with each rock of his hips. It’s leaking pre-cum steadily, leaving a barely noticeable smear of liquid across the pillow and darkening the fabric in its path. The entire bed is shifting with the force of him rocking his hips down repeatedly, his entire body rolling into it.</p>
<p>Keith has never needed anything visual to get him going but damn if he could tear his eyes away from the screen right now. He’s pretty sure this is the closest thing to a religious experience he’ll ever have because he’s definitely seeing the light, is finally starting to understand the appeal of porn. As it turns out, it wasn’t the visuals itself that ever turned him off, it was just the corporate stench that permeated the atmosphere of every video.</p>
<p>There’s something to be said for consuming content from an individual passionate creator even in these circumstances, which shouldn’t come as a surprise because it’s always boded true in the past with every other form of media… hell, Keith himself is an artist, he should know better than anyone that individual creators are where your support should lie. But it just never<em> occured </em> to Keith to look into porn beyond the first couple search results Google so kindly offered him. Clearly it should have.</p>
<p>Leandro is making these noises in the back of his throat, caught somewhere between a whimper and a full-on moan, but he’s not allowing them to reach their full potential. They’re punched-out and breathy like they’re beyond his control, but they’re just muffled enough to make it clear that he’s trying to hold himself back. And it’s probably not out of genuine shyness, Keith wouldn’t expect shyness from the man filming himself getting off for the entirety of the internet to see, but it’s just similar enough to be a believable imitation of such.</p>
<p>Keith can’t even deny that it’s doing it for him, that the noises are<em> damn </em> cute. He can just picture the bitten red lips and the blushing cheeks that accompany each gasp and whine. He desperately wishes that it was in frame, that he could see it for himself. </p>
<p>He nearly jumps when, for the first time in the short clip of the video that he’s actually watched, Leandro actually speaks. Keith hadn’t been expecting him to at all, had figured the noises alone were the most he was going to get. It feels like a bonus, like something extra entirely to be able to hear that sultry purr that rolls off Leandro’s tongue like melting butter. </p>
<p>“<em> Ah, ah, ah </em>, fuck, gonna come.”</p>
<p>And just like that, a barrier has been broken, a wall crumbled to the ground. Leandro’s previously stifled moans are ringing out loud and unfiltered through the scratchy audio of the camera he’d filmed himself with. He sounds like a <em> whore </em>, like each noise is being personally dragged from his throat by the pleasure.</p>
<p>Keith can’t deny that the preview really did<em> not </em> do this video justice. It was worth every penny.</p>
<p>Leandro reaches down to wrap long, delicate fingers around his cock like its an act of love and not one of filthy self-gratification. It’s something else entirely, completely unlike the hasty way he’d been humping the pillow, like animal need had taken over and all he cared about was pleasuring himself. No, watching the way Leandro’s deft fingers frame his cock is almost inspiring in the strangest of ways. It has Keith loosening his grip on himself, trying in vain to mirror the way the man on screen is touching himself.</p>
<p>Keith feels like a livewire, like a rocket bound to go off at any moment. But he doesn’t give in to the urge and chase the sensation like a bloodhound on a scent, fangs bared and ready to rip into it the very moment its within his reach. He waits, sits back on his haunches and lets it circle back to him on its own time. In the meantime, he watches Leandro with hunger bleeding into every molecule of his body. He longs to be the one touching him, to feel all of that smooth skin on display to him.</p>
<p>Keith can hardly even feel it where his hand is wrapped around his own cock, moving clumsily and fruitlessly, with none of the usual ingrained rhythm to it. For once, Keith is masturbating and his own pleasure is coming as an afterthought, which seems ridiculous but it’s what it is. He’s absolutely invested in the video, especially as Leandro scrambles for the camera and pulls it in closer for a better view.</p>
<p>Pretty much the entire shot is his cock and the edge of the skirt’s fabric framing it, and Keith might be drunk on sensation at this point but he’s pretty sure he’s never seen a prettier penis in his life. It’s long and slender, curved just right that Keith can only imagine how it’d feel pressed inside of him, it’s smooth everywhere, the entire shaft laced with veins that Keith longs to trace with his tongue.</p>
<p>There’s the telltale drawing of breath that stays, no exhale following. Even the noises of approval have trailed off into something stilted and distracted. Leandro’s hand freezes on his cock, simply holds it instead as he feels the oversensitivity already threatening to set in before it’s even hit him yet. It all adds up and Keith can’t stop staring at where Leandro’s cock is twitching wildly in his fist, the foreskin pushed back to show off where the slit is pulsing like it could spill over at any second.</p>
<p>What Keith would fucking <em> give </em> to have his tongue outstretched and cradling the head of that dick right now, to be on his knees in front of this perfectly handsome stranger, poised and ready to swallow down each jet of cum as it spills over with a thankfulness that would be almost <em> greedy </em>.</p>
<p>When Leandro comes his voice breaks hard, mid-moan cracking into something quiet and wrecked. He barely even moves his hand from base to tip fully, but that’s all it takes for him to start spilling. Streaks of white land across his abdomen, decorating it in the crudest of ways. It immediately starts sliding back down his body in heavy globs, following the lines and curves of his faintly-defined abs. Keith’s mouth feels inexplicably dry. </p>
<p>All in all, Leandro’s orgasm lasts a grand fourteen seconds before the video abruptly cuts off. Keith would know, he counted, when he went back to watch that clip again and again. On his fourth time watching Leandro’s hips stutter, his body crumple and curl in on itself, his fist tightening just beneath the crown of his cock… Keith himself comes with a moan that he’s sure the downstairs apartment neighbors will have complaints about come morning. It’s good, so fucking good, better than it’s been in months. He’s never been able to achieve that mind-blanking level of orgasm, the kind that leaves him smiling and giddy in the darkness of his room, on his own. Even with partners, it’s been a scarce few times.</p>
<p>Hm.</p>
<p>In his warm, hazy state Keith doesn’t think twice about clicking the follow button beside Leandro’s name.</p>
<p>He then promptly falls asleep, laptop still open on his chest.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>To be perfectly honest, after that night… Keith sort-of forgets that he followed Leandro.</p>
<p>He has never been a particularly social kinda guy, so that transfers over to his social media habits. He doesn’t really use his accounts often, it overwhelms him when he does. He’s starting to amass a bit of a following on there, of people he doesn’t know. He only ever made it to keep up with his friends and see what they were up to. But as soon as he started posting his art work and tattoo designs he was working on, the attention found him one way or another. His corner of the internet had been utterly invaded, going from an acceptable twenty followers to a whopping five hundred so far this year. Unnerving. </p>
<p>So he signs on maybe once or twice a week, checks out what’s going on, posts a couple pictures of his art and that’s it. He isn’t the type of guy to gossip, to make friends, to seek out attention on purpose. It’s just not his environment. Though, to be fair, he’s not entirely sure that he <em> has </em> an environment suited to him. He’s always been a bit of a lone wolf, wandering from place to place.</p>
<p>He thought maybe he’d found his environment last year, when he first applied for the grant to go back to school. Being a mechanic didn’t sound so bad. He liked cars well enough, had been working on them in his backyard since his early teens. It seemed like an easy answer to all of the questions in his life. A home, a job, a purpose.</p>
<p>He dropped out two months into it. </p>
<p>School had never been his thing. His state-mandated early childhood therapist in elementary school had told him as much, though they had said it in ways like “problems with authority” and “alienated from peers due to childhood trauma” and “persistent anxious thoughts ruminating into habits of aggression toward others”. He could read between the lines. School wasn’t his thing and never would be. He got good enough grades to graduate at eighteen and then never looked back again, until twenty-three when he’d impulsively applied for a grant and received it for some reason.</p>
<p>He’d been a tumbleweed his entire life. Bounced from foster home to foster home, from school to school, from city to city, and now, from job to job.</p>
<p>Right now he’s working as a night shift cashier at a gas station where he survives entirely off of energy drinks and Doritos. It’s not so bad. Sure, occasionally old trucker guys come in and mistake him for a woman because of his long hair, flirting so aggressively it makes Keith a little bit fearful. And the bathrooms he cleans look more like the aftermath of a nuclear apocalypse than anything else. Plus he’s pretty sure his boss is trying to sleep with him. But it’s not so bad. He’s had worse jobs. Way worse.</p>
<p>Besides, he might do it. Sleep with him. You know, because he’s starved for human touch and affection, and also because he wants leverage to make sure he keeps this job because he can’t afford to lose another one if he wants to keep a roof over his head.</p>
<p>Anyway, he lives in a dump and his job is a nightmare.</p>
<p>The only saving grace in his life is Shiro.</p>
<p>His best friend, his older brother figure, his mentor. Shiro is eight years older than him, had been a highschool quarterback with everything in the world within his grasp before a drunken driving incident that’d nearly been fatal. He wasn’t even the one behind the wheel. He lost an arm and after that he’d reevaluated his entire life and decided to volunteer to spend five hours a week with troubled kids in need of guidance. Poor bastard had been stuck with Keith first go of it. And for some reason, unlike the three other “big brothers” that Keith had been stuck with before… Shiro didn’t give up. Not when Keith bit him, not when Keith stole his car, not when Keith snatched his phone and obliterated his relationship with his highschool boyfriend out of jealousy that someone other than him was getting Shiro’s attention.</p>
<p>Shiro took it all in stride. He stood by Keith as he grew from a troubled kid into a slightly-less-troubled adult. Hell, he played a big factor in that being possible at all. It’d seemed stupid, the first time the program coordinater had introduced some gangly teenager as Keith’s “big brother” and expected it to work out… but then Shiro came along. Thirteen years later and here Keith is, with someone he unironically thinks of as his only family in the world.</p>
<p>And here Shiro is, still suffering over a decade later because he had to go and get attached to the most troubled kid of them all.</p>
<p>
  <em> To: Shiro. Sent: 4:43am. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Help. Creepy old man. He won’t leave. He just asked me to give him a tour of the bathroom. I’m not sure if he’s about to pull out a gun or something much, much worse.” </em>
</p>
<p>Keith types out the message as discreetly as he possibly can under the edge of the counter, bottom lip drawn back between his teeth. He’s been biting it raw for the past half an hour, warily eyeing the man who wandered into the gas station and simply refused to leave. He’s been trying to make conversation, to get Keith to leave his cozy position behind the counter. </p>
<p>Keith doesn’t get the privilege of working with another coworker, he’s all on his own out here. And sure, he’s anything but helpless, he was a scrappy kid who’s done his fair share of beating creeps into the ground. But… and it always comes back to this, he can’t afford to lose his job.</p>
<p>
  <em> From: Shiro. Sent: 4:45am </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Omw.” </em>
</p>
<p>Keith can practically hear the exhausted groan of annoyance, can picture the way Shiro would be rolling out of bed with squinted eyes and hair standing in every which direction. It puts a fond smile on his face, a rare sight to see while he’s working. And it’s rare for a good reason, because no sooner has the expression graced his face than does a reason present itself for him to frown instead.</p>
<p>“You’re out of hot dogs.” A gruff voice says, followed by the slam of a hand landing on the counter between them just a little too heavily. Keith jumps, whipping his gaze upward and scrambling to pocket his phone. </p>
<p>“Excuse me?”</p>
<p>“God, you millennials these days, can’t get your fucking noses out of your phone for a minute.” Keith knows that tone well, that unimpressed customer that won’t be pleased no matter how Keith goes out of his way for the stranger. Keith’s shoulders sag a little bit in defeat right from the get-go. The man leans over the counter between them, so close that Keith can see the snot crusted in his mustache from the cold outside. Ew. “Hot. Dogs.”</p>
<p>Who the fuck actually buys their hot dogs from a gas station anyway? </p>
<p>“Right. Sorry, I’ll throw a couple on right now.” Keith apologizes quickly, keeping his head bowed down low as he slinks out from behind the counter. The creepy guy from before is still hanging around, looking at their drink coolers for the hundredth time over. You’d best believe it catches his attention when Keith leaves his post to go refill the food though.</p>
<p>So now Keith is crossing the threshold with giant asshole and creepy guy in tow, flanking him on either side. Suddenly, Keith is starting to think that this job<em> is </em>so bad after all.</p>
<p>“Will it be a long wait?” Asshole says, from where he’s hovering at Keith’s side and watching him work over his shoulder. Keith can feel the heat of his breath against his neck and it’s taking everything he has not to snap at him, to remind him that personal space is a god-given right to everyone, even gas station employees working for minimum wage.</p>
<p>“Ten minutes or so.”</p>
<p>“Jesus.” The man curses, making his displeasure very loud and clear. Keith can’t exactly accommodate for it though, the machine only cooks things so fast and he’d surely have complaints if Keith offered him an undercooked wiener. “I’m gonna go out to the truck, I’ll be back in when they’re ready.”</p>
<p>“Yes Sir.” Keith mumbles, looking up to watch as the man lumbers back toward the doors. It’s odd, how Keith can be watching the literal human equivalent to a pile of shit walk out of the store and still feel a pang of longing for him to stay. Even<em> his </em> terrible company was better than being alone in the company of the creep, who now sidles right up to Keith and into the space the other man had been occupying. Ew.</p>
<p>Keith tries to ignore it, piles hot dog after hot dog into the rotating grill with his gloved hands, prays that he’ll just give up and go away.</p>
<p>“You’re pretty good at handling those. Skilled hands.” It’s unclear whether this is meant to be a genuine albeit strange compliment or a blatant sexual innuendo. Keith’s fingers twitch, resisting the urge to gag this man to death on a raw cylinder of processed animal parts.</p>
<p>“Thank-you?” Keith offers meekly, turning to the man with a quirked eyebrow.</p>
<p>Making eye contact was a mistake, oh god, oh no. The man comes alive with hope, like the smallest hint of acknowledgement somehow translates into approval for whatever game he’s trying to play right now.</p>
<p>“Keith!” And just like that, it’s Keith’s turn to light up with hope and relief alike. He turns around on his heel, grinning wide as the doors swing shut behind Shiro. He’s half-dressed, wearing checkered pajama pants and a winter coat with seemingly no shirt underneath. His hair looks like it got caught in a lawnmower on the way over. Fuck, he barely looks awake.</p>
<p>“Shiro!” Keith calls back just as eagerly, abandoning the food station completely to barrel into Shiro’s chest in an impromptu hug. If it weren’t for the counter within grabbing distance, Shiro would have toppled onto his ass at the added weight. As it is, he grips the counter with all his might and manages to stay upright until Keith backs away enough to whisper in his ear. “That’s him. That guy over there.”</p>
<p>And just like that, Shiro is wide awake. He gently pushes Keith away, makes a show of puffing his chest out and flexing the muscles of his non-prosthetic arm. Keith rolls his eyes the slightest bit, stepping back behind the counter and watching the show.</p>
<p>“Fancy seeing you here, my little brother who I would go through hell and back for. I just got done picking someone’s teeth out of the grill of my car.” Shiro announces this to no one in specific, practically shouting into the whole of the room. Keith buries his face in his hands, leaning heavily into the counter.</p>
<p>“You’re overselling it.” Keith mutters under his breath.</p>
<p>“It’s 5am, forgive me for the lack of nuance.” Shiro mutters back, disguised as a yawn behind his palm.</p>
<p>It doesn’t take long for the man to silently place a packet of gum on the counter then. Keith checks him out with the usual formalities, then watches with relief as he turns and leaves the building without another word. Shiro lingers by the counter the entire time, watching him with a hawk’s gaze.</p>
<p>Once they’re both absolutely sure that he’s not coming back, they both start to chuckle in that bubbly sleep-deprived way that only occurs in the early hours of the morning. Keith leans across the counter, rests his forehead on Shiro’s shoulder as he fucking loses it.</p>
<p>“God, you’re so<em> stupid </em>. Picking teeth out of your grill?”</p>
<p>“Hey, it worked!”</p>
<p>“That it did.” Keith relents, his laughter slowly filtering out into comfortable silence. He rights himself, stands up and stretches his arms high above his head. It sounds like every bone in his body cracks, his spine giving a sickening crunching noise that has Shiro shooting him a worried look. “Thanks, Shiro.”</p>
<p>“You<em> need </em>a new job.” Shiro says, not for the first time since he got hired here.</p>
<p>“Yeah, you don’t have to tell me that. Find someone in this city willing to hire someone with barely anything worth putting on their resume and I’ll consider it.”</p>
<p>“Why don’t you try school again? Or at least try and get a job that doesn’t end in disaster? One that doesn’t take your mind, health, and safety for granted?”</p>
<p>“Shiro, I’m struggling to find a job that pays, I can’t afford to be any pickier than that.” </p>
<p>“You’ve been drawing again?” Keith pauses, looks behind himself where his sketchbook is sitting on one of the shelves below the counter. No one else would pay any mind to a ratty old notebook in the background, but Shiro recognizes it for what it is. Keith’s been drawing in that same book for the better part of six months after all.</p>
<p>“Mm, the one upside to working night shift when there are sometimes hours between customers.”</p>
<p>“Can I see?” Shiro asks, leaning over to brace himself against the counter. His eyelids are drooping, his head beginning to fall to one side almost the second he has support beneath it. In all honesty, Keith’s a little worried about letting him drive the five minutes back to his house. So, he does something he normally wouldn’t, sheepishly slides his sketchbook in front of Shiro and braces himself for the worst.</p>
<p>With anyone else, the worst is a fear of criticism and rejection, of his skill being insulted and belittled.</p>
<p>With Shiro, the worst is a fear of drowning in praise and compliments he doesn’t feel he deserves. </p>
<p>Tonight is different though. In his tired state, Shiro is uncharacteristically silent as he flips slowly through the pages, taking careful time to admire each and every new drawing. Keith watches him idly, his heart caught in his throat as he waits on feedback. All he gets is the odd intrigued hum or a flash of a smile across Shiro’s lips. It’s wearing on him.</p>
<p>“Well? What do you think?”</p>
<p>“God, Keith, you’re so talented. You should do something with <em> this </em>.”</p>
<p>“Like what? Freelance shit? I’ve tried, it doesn’t pay enough to be worth my time.”</p>
<p>“No, I mean…” Shiro trails off, stops flipping through the pages and lingers on Keith’s most recent drawing. He’d been working on it tonight before all the distractions found him. It’s a lion, with aztec-inspired patterning through the feathering main framing its face. “They’re intended to be tattoo designs, yeah? Why don’t you try to get an apprenticeship at a shop? With a portfolio like this I’m sure someone would take you on.”</p>
<p>“Do you know how many people are out here trying to get apprenticeships?”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t matter. None of them have what you have to offer.” Shiro insists, closing the book and sliding it back across the counter. When Keith reaches to snatch it back up, Shiro places a hand over his and gives it an encouraging squeeze. “Just consider it, that’s all I’m asking.”</p>
<p>“I’ll <em> consider </em> it.” Keith sighs through his teeth, in that uninspired way that tells Shiro to back off and leave the subject alone. Keith knows in his heart that he’s not good enough for that. He’s seen other artists, especially tattoo ones. Their dedication to their craft, their attention to detail, their creativity… he has none of that. He sometimes goes months between periods of drawing, he could never pursue it as a career. He’s not consistent enough. In anything.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna go home and get back in my bed.” Shiro announces, snatching a couple chocolate bars and watching as Keith boredly rings them in. “You good now?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine, Shiro, go home.” Keith insists, handing him his receipt. “Thanks again.”</p>
<p>“You know what I always say, anytime you need me.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, get out of here already before you get all gross and sappy about it.” </p>
<p>After Shiro leaves, Keith doesn’t have it in him to go back to drawing. Instead he fishes his phone back out and glances at the time, registers that he has a whopping four minutes left before the hot dogs are ready and asshole guy returns for his meal. Keith decides to make the most of those four minutes by wasting them uselessly checking his social media.</p>
<p>It’s sort-of dead at 5am. Not many people are online and the ones that are all happen to be celebrities from the west coast, the different timezones making it a slightly more reasonable hour there. Keith doesn’t follow many celebrities to begin with though, so there aren’t many posts to busy himself with.</p>
<p>There is one post that certainly catches his eye though, and it doesn’t even have anything to do with the five tacky emojis adorning the end of the paragraph.</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Buy my nudes! I need new textbooks for next semester and all proceeds go toward funding them! A big thank-you to everyone that’s already supported me. You’re helping me through college one booty pic at a time! :) :) :) :) :) </em>
</p>
<p>“Geez, he’s fucking shameless.” Keith chuckles, fighting the urge to smile.</p>
<p>There’s a photo attached and Keith does a quick scan of the store to make sure he’s alone before opening it. It’s blurred, obviously, Leandro is keeping the actual content behind a paywall for his college funds or whatever. But… Keith can just barely make out the silhouette of a long tan spine and the curves of wide hips… and then there’s another emoji plastered over his ass because disfiguring the photo with a blur apparently wasn’t enough.</p>
<p>It’s stupid. Leandro posts photos of his bare body all the time, for free, and sure his ass and cock are always expertly cropped just out of sight but what about those body parts makes them inherently more valuable? Keith has seen his fair share of asses and cocks in his day, for free, on google images and in person. They’re not <em> that </em> special. </p>
<p>It’s even stupider that Keith is <em> considering </em> it anyway. He’s literally seen <em> Leandro’s </em>ass and cock before in video format, why should he buy nudes as well? He could just rewatch that video that he has saved to his phone. Doesn’t that make more sense? Isn’t that the thrifty thing to do? Hell, he’s working minimum wage, he can’t exactly afford luxuries and nude pics definitely aren’t a necessity.</p>
<p>But hey, it <em> is </em> going to a good cause...</p>
<p>This time Keith has the common sense about him to make a second account that doesn’t have photos of his actual face on it. He doesn’t have the common sense to keep from spending twenty bucks on nude pictures though, as the icon loads informing him that the payment went through. And then he waits. And waits. And waits with growing impatience.</p>
<p>The man comes back into the store, the asshole from before. He heads straight for the hot dogs and doesn’t even grace Keith with a glance in his direction. Keith figures that’s just as well, he didn’t really want to interact with him anyway. </p>
<p>His phone dings with a message where he’s hidden it beneath the counter.</p>
<p>Keith’s hand twitches with the urge to grab it, but he keeps himself in line. </p>
<p>Eventually, the man makes his way back to the counter and pays. He doesn’t have any snappy comments this time, given that his mouth is disgustingly filled to the brim with a bite of hot dog. There’s ketchup in his mustache now and Keith can physically feel the horny energy depleting the longer he’s forced to interact with him. So he makes it quick. Gives the man his change and the receipt.</p>
<p>He turns to leave and the moment his back is turned, Keith grabs for his phone.</p>
<p>He doesn’t even look up, just waits to hear the chime of the doors opening and closing behind the man.</p>
<p>It’s a set of eight photos altogether. Keith feels like a kid in a candy store as he opens the first one. It’s the one that’d been blurred before, Leandro sitting on his bed with his back to the camera. Now that it’s no longer blurred, Keith can make out the notches of his spine, the dimples at the small of his back, the short neatly-trimmed brown hair just barely visible at the nape of his neck. And oh, that ass, it’s round and inviting sitting prettily with his feet tucked beneath to frame it. </p>
<p>The next photo has Leandro bent over in front of the camera, hands brought back behind himself to spread his cheeks wide. Keith was more curious than horny going into this, but that’s quickly changing the longer he stares at the smooth skin on display to him. This angle doesn’t leave much to the imagination. From the curled toes, to the fist between his legs, Leandro’s balls are drawn tight to his body and the pucker of his hole is stretched around a sleek black plug. Keith’s brain short-circuits a little bit. His own cock twitches rather blatantly in his work uniform.</p>
<p>Before Keith can hurriedly swipe to the third photo, there’s a loud clearing of a throat in front of him. </p>
<p>Time slows down, freezes maybe, and Keith forgets how to breathe.</p>
<p>When he finally brings himself to look up, he’s staring at the asshole from before who apparently never left and circled back for the napkins kept on the corner of the counter. He got a lot more than he bargained for though, if his eyes being glued to Keith’s phone screen is anything to go by. Fuck.</p>
<p>“Are you looking at porn? During business hours?”</p>
<p>“W-What?! No, I was just-” Keith cuts himself off with a damning sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat the longer the man stares him down. He looks furious. He really has no right to be, Keith being horny on company time is no business of his whatsoever. It’s not like it’s going to affect the service he’s getting.</p>
<p>But, the sad fact of the matter is, this guy is definitely the type of asshole that’s going to make a big deal out of it and complain to Keith’s manager. He’s the relentless kind too, the ones that won’t stop until their complaints end in an employee getting fired. That much is blatantly clear. And as much as Keith’s boss is fond of him, the second he costs them a customer he’s gone. Keith knows how little he is valued as a person here.</p>
<p>Keith gets fired from his job the next day.</p>
<p>He’s forced to take Shiro’s advice into consideration a lot sooner than he’d planned on.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>It turns out to be a blessing in disguise, though it seems like hell when Keith loses his job and can’t pay his rent that month. He’s stuck moving in with Shiro for the second time in his life, which makes him feel like a mooch and a failure in ways he can’t fully explain. Shiro insists that it’s fine though, is nothing but understanding and encouraging the whole way through. He’s newly-single again, him and Adam taking a break from their relationship for the umpteenth time, and he claims that it’ll be nice to have the extra company around now that he’s <em> so </em>lonely.</p>
<p>At first, Keith spends a lot of time moping in his bedroom. Or rather, the guest bedroom where he’s staying, the one that Shiro has always made sure to keep specifically for if Keith wants to stay with him. They’ve never acknowledged as much, but they both know that Shiro doesn’t have enough people to warrant a guest bedroom for any other reason than as a backup plan for if Keith fucks up again. It’s sweet, if not a little patronizing. Keith can’t deny that it’s nice to come back to, to have his clothes still in the closet and books still on the bedside table half-read through.</p>
<p>He scours for a job posting, something that he hasn’t applied to before. His options are slim to none though, it’s the dead of winter after the holiday season, the slow season for hiring. Anything that does get posted, he’s woefully underqualified for. Shiro keeps telling him that there’s no rush, to take his time and find something good. Keith can’t accept that though, he’s restless and antsy, doesn’t like living on other people’s generosity any longer than he has to. He’s learned over the course of his life that generosity is a finite resource.</p>
<p>Eventually, he finds something. It’s not ideal, working food service has never been his thing and never rightly will be, but he doesn’t have much choice right now. He’s prepared to don that tacky uniform and visor, and even wear a hairnet if need absolutely be. </p>
<p>The interview goes well. They promise to call him soon.</p>
<p>They don’t call.</p>
<p>Shiro comes home to Keith curled up in his bed sulking one night, dried tears very clearly crusted to his face though neither of them will acknowledge it aloud. Shiro crawls into the tiny cot of a bed with him, there’s a sickening crunch to the baseboards beneath the mattress as they scream for mercy against Shiro’s added weight. He hands Keith a beer, Keith chugs it down in a few swigs while barely lifting his head from the pillow.</p>
<p>“Oh, so we’re getting <em> drunk </em> drunk? That bad of a day?”</p>
<p>“Shut-up.” Keith grumbles, but there’s no bite to it. His voice sounds just as hollow as the rest of him feels. Even Shiro looks disappointed by the lack of venom present.</p>
<p>“Look, I’ve been letting you sit here and mope for a week, I didn’t want to interfere or meddle. I’ll even turn a blind eye while you drink like a drowning fish. Sure, I could lecture you, but we both know that usually ends in me getting bitten-”</p>
<p>“That was when I was twelve!”</p>
<p>“Normal people stop biting at three!” Shiro counters, quickly switching back to the subject at hand like they never strayed in the first place. “Anyway, I’ll stand by and let you make your bad decisions. Lord knows I made plenty of my own, from one bullheaded dumbass to another, sometimes the only way you learn your lesson is by drilling it into your head time and time again.”</p>
<p>Keith snuggles down deeper in the blanket, mainly to hide the traitorous smile worming its way across his lips no matter how he tries to fight it. He doesn’t really get it, how Shiro gets him. No one has ever given Keith so much freedom by choice, no one has ever trusted him enough to let him make his own decisions. Even when he uses that freedom poorly, makes terrible decisions that hurt both him and the ones he loves, Shiro never shames him or tells him how he should have handled things. He lets Keith breathe in a way that the rest of the world never has, never cared to.</p>
<p>Still… that freedom only extends so far, there are limits to it like anything else.</p>
<p>“I’m waiting on a “but” or an “if” here. What’s the catch? Normal Shiro is never cool enough to let me drink my problems away, he says it’s a bad habit to get into and I should take my frustrations out in more productive ways like art, or working out, or <em> beating people up </em>.”</p>
<p>“Listen, I would rather you beat someone else up instead of yourself, is that such a bad thing?” </p>
<p>“What are you getting at here, Shiro?” Keith asks plainly, rolling over so he can glare directly into Shiro’s eyes and get his message across that he means business. He’s not looking for a skillful subject change or a dodging of the question, he genuinely wants to know why Shiro is making an exception to the rule. He never lets Keith do anything that might harm<em> himself </em>. That’s the extent of the freedom.</p>
<p>So Shiro sighs, deep and heavy, and grabs the empty bottle from Keith’s hand to set it aside.</p>
<p>His hand returns with his phone in it, then promptly gets placed into Keith’s waiting hands.</p>
<p>“Message them some pictures of your work.” It isn’t really a suggestion, there isn’t room for argument left beneath the heavy way Shiro forms the words. Keith recognizes the business name displayed proudly at the top of the page, knows that the few tattoos that litter Shiro’s body came from this shop. The portrait of his mother on the shoulder just above where his prosthetic starts, the sword that he’d gotten done for Keith as a surprise the day that Keith finally graduated, and the heart tattoo on his thigh that’s almost always hidden with Adam’s signature neatly scrawled through it.</p>
<p>Keith sighs long and hard.</p>
<p>“Seriously?” </p>
<p>“Seriously, Keith. I don’t think it would hurt to try. You never know, maybe being a tattoo artist is your calling, your purpose that you’ve been looking for.” Shiro is doing that thing where he goes off on an inspiring tangent, talks about Keith like he has all the options in the world and can do anything he puts his mind to. Keith resists the urge to gag, instead tuning it out.</p>
<p>He debates it for as long as Shiro rambles on to him, debates it heavily with himself, with his heart. He’s not sure he can take the rejection that is undoubtedly awaiting him if he sends a message to this shop. It nearly broke him being rejected from a fast food place, and that decision was simply based on him, how he chose to present himself. To be rejected based solely on his art, on something so much more personal and honest to who he really is. It already feels like such a fragile thing that he ever found a way to express those heavy emotions at all, he doesn’t want to risk it by opening it up to criticism.</p>
<p>But it’s clear that this means a lot to Shiro, and it’s not often that Shiro does try to steer him in any one direction. He recognizes that Keith is turbulent, stubborn, independent. He doesn’t value other people’s input on his life and how he should live it. Or, he never used to, Shiro has become the exception, the one person he looks up to so much that he’d consider what he’s saying right now.</p>
<p>“Fine.” Keith says sharply, cutting Shiro off mid-sentence. But Shiro happily snaps his jaw shut, turns to look at Keith as slowly as he can, like any sudden movement might make him take it back. You know what, maybe he should, maybe he should bargain more here before he gives in. “I’ll do it, but<em> only </em> if you message Adam and end this stupid silent treatment thing you’re both doing.”</p>
<p>Shiro doesn’t hesitate nearly as much as expected, which means he’d likely already been planning on caving and messaging Adam soon.</p>
<p>“Deal, but I’m gonna need at least two more beers before that happens.” </p>
<p>“Ditto.” Keith agrees.</p>
<p>“What do you say we leave the cave of shame for tonight and go hang-out on the couch? I’ll order pizza for us both.” Shiro rolls out of the bed, ignores the second crunch of the bed as he gets to his feet. He turns back, offers Keith an outstretched hand to help him up. Keith gives his soft sheets and comfortable mattress a silent goodbye, already missing them the second he’s upright again. </p>
<p>“This was all an elaborate ruse to get me to leave my bed for the first time in days, isn’t it? You’re fucking tricking me into getting my life back together.” Keith accuses coldly, glaring up at his brother. Shiro just grins, wide and shit-eating and unabashed. Keith has no idea when Shiro learned to navigate him so well, to dodge the avalanches and swim through the tsunami of unaddressed emotions, to cross mountains and valleys alike to reach Keith when he felt unreachable. </p>
<p>Keith sulks the whole way to the couch, where he then promptly parks his ass on the cushions. It isn’t the same though, even as he drapes a blanket over himself and lays down with a scowl on his face, it isn’t the same depressed spiral he’d been in. Like it or not, Shiro had dragged him up and out of it, back to solid ground. Even if he’s still physically just laying around, something about his perspective has deeply changed. He’s beginning to hope again.</p>
<p>So he sits there, ignoring Shiro’s stupid knowing glances in his direction, and furiously types out his message to the tattoo parlor across town.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Keith wakes up bent in an unholy position, arms trapped beneath the weight of his chest and thoroughly lacking the proper circulation they need. His legs are somehow propped above the rest of him, perhaps stuffed beneath the cushions of the couch. He’s… pretty sure there’s a cheez-it stuck to his cheek. He only knows this because it’s happened to him before, and he recognizes the shape of the square.</p>
<p>He cracks open an eye, nearly hisses at the sunlight that shoots into it like a missile. It’s too much, too bright, and he drank way too fucking much. </p>
<p>Ugh, what the fuck, he kind of wishes he’d heeded Shiro’s advice and not drowned his anxiety and disappointment in alcohol. At some point they’d switched from beer to vodka, and then there was no going back for either of them.</p>
<p>When he opens his eyes again, he sees Shiro asleep in a ball across the room and decides that Shiro didn’t do a very good job of heeding his own advice either. Keith is getting too old for this. And if he’s too old, lord knows Shiro’s dinosaur-aged ass is feeling it right now, is probably hungover to hell and back. Keith eyes the room discreetly for a vomit bucket, hopes Shiro won’t need it but wants to be prepared just the same.</p>
<p>Keith starts to prop himself up, only to curse when the corner of his phone digs between his ribs at the awkward angle it’d fallen in. He reaches down and snatches it, stares through bleary squinted eyes as he checks the time. But the time isn’t the only thing displayed on his homescreen, a slew of messages from friends also greet him.</p>
<p>Against all odds and all of his wishes, Keith has the tendency to be a social drunk.</p>
<p>He’s not sure why, maybe because the alcohol helps him lose his anxieties and let down his walls, and reach out in search of affection he’d otherwise never be caught dead actively longing for. It seems he’s messaged a couple ex-boyfriends, a couple siblings from old foster homes that he hasn’t spoken to in years, and even Adam. Great.</p>
<p>He opens his phone, prepared to do damage control, and is greeted with the familiar business page of the tattoo parlor. Suddenly, he’s a lot more awake, as he skims through his messages again and notices theirs among the others. He nearly chokes as he opens it, holding his breath.</p>
<p>“Shiro.” He whispers at first, disbelief painting his voice. Shiro barely stirs at the sound, just gives a disinterested grunt and continues on snoring. Keith picks up a half-eaten pizza slice from the coffee table and biffs it at the back of his head. “Shiro! Wake up!”</p>
<p>“Keith, go the fuck to sleep. It’s like the ass crack of dawn or something.”</p>
<p>“It’s after noon!” Keith argues, but it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s crawling across the space between them on his hands and knees, plopping down next to Shiro and shaking him awake by his shoulders. He nearly gets a kick to where the sun don’t shine for his troubles, but he expertly dodges it and continues to annoy Shiro into consciousness. “Wake up, you hungover idiot! Listen to me!”</p>
<p>“Ugh, Keith, what the hell?” Shiro complains bitterly, as his eyes open only to be blinded by the light of Keith’s phone screen a mere inch away from his retinas. Shiro snatches the device, looking all but ready to throw it across the room, but something in Keith’s expression must have him hesitating. </p>
<p>He still doesn’t fucking read the message plainly displayed in front of his eyes though, so Keith grabs his phone back and starts reading aloud in the most professional voice he can manage with his throat still gravelly from sleep.</p>
<p>“Dear Keith, we thank you for your interest and for reaching out to our company page. Though we aren’t currently accepting applications as our shop is at capacity, we found your art incredibly impressive and forwarded it to a friend who is hoping to open his own tattoo parlor soon. I hope this wasn’t a breach of privacy, but our friend is very interested in taking you on as an apprentice in their upcoming shop. They are a certified tattoo artist and you will be learning from a skilled teacher, but unfortunately it won’t be a paid opportunity until their shop is off the ground financially. If this is something that interests you, let us know and we’ll forward you their information. Thanks!”</p>
<p>“Ugh, unpaid internship? Sounds like a recipe for disaster.” Shiro dismisses with a grunt, rolling over to go back to sleep. Keith doesn’t move to leave his side though, just continues sitting there with that same expectant look on his face, waiting until he gets a better rejection. Shiro looks back at him over his shoulder, clearly unimpressed. “Keith?”</p>
<p>“What do you think? Does it seem like a scam? Should I do it?”</p>
<p>“Damn, give me a second to find my glasses.” Shiro sighs, grasping blindly across the floor. He finds his glasses and slides them up the bridge of his nose, looking at the phone with more recognition now when Keith hands it over to him. “Hm…”</p>
<p>“<em> Hm </em>?”</p>
<p>“You really wanna know what I think?” Shiro asks, to which Keith eagerly nods and leans subtly forward, as if he were on the edge of his seat for the incoming opinion. Shiro smiles at him. “I think you’ve already made up your mind and nothing I could say is going to do a damn thing to sway you. I don’t know why you’re bothering to ask me at all. You’re stubborn like that.”</p>
<p>It’s true.</p>
<p>Shiro knows him well.</p>
<p>“I don’t care about the money, I’ll find another way to make enough to pay you for letting me stay here if-”</p>
<p>“Keith, I don’t want your fucking money. How many times do I have to tell you that? You’re welcome to stay here whenever you want, for as long as you need to.”</p>
<p>“But-”</p>
<p>“If you want to do it, go ahead. You miss all the shots you don’t take. I think you deserve to be paid for your time and effort, but if nothing else it’s a chance to see if this is what you want to do. Just don’t undervalue yourself like everyone else tends to.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, Shiro.” Keith relaxes the slightest bit, glad to have his approval. He leans back, gives a long yawn, and tries to ignore the excited racing of his heart. He can’t believe that this is really happening, that he’s going to have a chance to pursue this. It certainly feels a lot better than waiting on a callback for a fast food place, that’s for damn fucking sure. </p>
<p>Slowly, a menacing giggling makes itself known.</p>
<p>Shiro is not known to giggle. His laughter is deep and hearty, from his chest. Unless… he’s up to something absolutely devious that must be stopped at once. It’s a mischievous sort-of laughter, the kind that has Shiro glancing up at Keith over and over to see if he’s caught on yet. Keith’s phone is still in his hands. </p>
<p>“What the hell are you laughing at, huh? Stop snooping through my messages, there’s nothing interesting there anyway and we both know it.”</p>
<p>“You were really drunk last night, huh?” Shiro smirks at him. Keith sighs, wondering just how embarrassing his attempts at reaching out to old friends actually were. Shiro is probably within his right to tease him about whatever stupid shit he said. “Who’s this Leandro guy sending you all this? These pictures are pretty fucking scandalous, I didn’t think you were seeing anyone.”</p>
<p>Keith’s blood runs cold. His heart stops racing, stops beating altogether. His eyes go wide as saucers.</p>
<p>“Shiro!” Keith roars, atmosphere shifting from something lazy and warm to something akin to the electric of a battlefield within a second. He lurches forward, crushing Shiro’s windpipe under his palm as he grapples uselessly for his phone. “Give it back!”</p>
<p>“I’m gonna text him!”</p>
<p>“No you’re fucking not!” Keith snarls back, rolling around on the floor and fighting Shiro just like he had as a scrappy, overly-angry, biting twelve year old. Keith knees him in the groin and Shiro wheezes like a dying man, going completely boneless beneath him. Keith doesn’t care, just snatches his phone and happily gets to his feet to leave the room.</p>
<p>“Ow! You’re gonna leave me here for dead?! I don’t think I can stand. My bones! My brittle elderly thirty year old bones!”</p>
<p>“Good! Serves you right for snooping!” Keith replies shortly, turning on his heel and retreating back into his room. He slams the door shut behind himself, just to make it adamantly clear that he does not wish to be followed under any circumstances. Also, so Shiro has to deal with the complaints of his apartment neighbors while he’s hungover and doesn’t want to see another human being.</p>
<p>With a sinking feeling of dread that he’s done something horrifically embarrassing, Keith slips into his bed and checks his messages on his supposed-to-be-secret second account. He hadn’t thought to earlier, had been more preoccupied with all the messages that were so clearly in his face. This feels much worse than just sending kind messages to old friends though.</p>
<p>He’s never even interacted with this guy! He bought a video and a couple nudes from him. All he did was send the money, then Leandro sent him the photos right to his inbox with no captions or messages whatsoever to accommodate them. It was business, transactional, nothing personal about it and certainly no reason to initiate a conversation of any type.</p>
<p>Fuck. </p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: hey</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Hey? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: your’e so fuckigrn hot</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Thank-you, I’m very flattered.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Did you just send me fifty bucks? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Was this supposed to be payment for something or just a donation? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: What do you want, cutie? More pictures? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Come on, don’t get shy on me now. I’m intrigued. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: horny</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Aw, poor baby. Need me to help you with that?  </em>
</p>
<p><em> Prettybluekitty: </em> <b> <em>[image attached]</em> </b></p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Got me so worked up I think I’m gonna take some photos for you right now, how do you like that? You want me to put on something pretty? Use a certain toy? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Strong, silent type. Okay. I’ll take creative liberties as I see fit ;) </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Mm, fuck. Bet you wish you were here right now, watching me fuck myself with my fingers thinking about you. What would you do if you were, hm? </em>
</p>
<p><em> Prettybluekitty:  </em> <b> <em>[image attached]</em> </b></p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Look what you did. It’s all your fault. You made me make a mess of myself. </em>
</p>
<p><em> Prettybluekitty:  </em> <b> <em>[five images attached]</em> </b></p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Red? You still with me? </em>
</p>
<p>Oh, how embarrassing, not only did he initiate the conversation, he also totally ghosted the poor guy after he sent him nude photos. Nude photos that he most definitely <em> did </em>see, because every single one has been saved to his phone, so drunken Keith clearly had his priorities in order. All he can hope is that this conversation took place while Keith was in the bathroom or something, and not while Shiro was sleeping innocently next to him. Keith is pretty sure, though there’s a lack of evidence in his boxers, that he probably got off to these pictures last night. He has a vague memory of it, of sitting on the edge of the tub and rubbing one out half-asleep and drunk like a fucking animal, while Shiro was probably passed out in the next room.</p>
<p>Great. Just great. </p>
<p>And now, because Keith isn’t a total fucking asshole and is sort-of growing fond of this whole concept of getting nude photos from a cute guy on the regular, he has to find some way to apologize for ignoring him the night before. He’s never been good with people, but this is one conversation he’s really blanking on, totally at a loss for how to build something from the rubble.</p>
<p>Well, on the upside, he probably can’t make it worse.</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Sorry, I fell asleep.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: And here I thought you came so hard you blacked out. I think I like my idea better.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Well? Give me something to work with. What did you think? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Hot. Really hot. Thanks.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Your review leaves a little something to be desired, Red.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: But I suppose your wallet makes up for it. Don’t be shy, message me if you want more where that came from. The whole awkward but appreciative idiot thing is kinda doing it for me. It’s cute. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: I will.</b>
</p>
<p>That was… surprisingly easier than Keith would have expected. This guy seems easy to talk to, maybe a little desperate for praise, but that seems to come with the territory given he’s posting his naked body online. And it’s not that he’s not deserving of it, the praise, because he’s fucking gorgeous. Keith is only reminded of the fact now that his anxiety has calmed enough for him to actually open the photos he’d saved last night and look at them properly.</p>
<p>The first couple photos are teasers, close-up photos of the bulge in his thin white underwear, and then a close-up of his cock and abdomen.</p>
<p>The five photos he sent all at once are not teases at all.</p>
<p>Leandro is completely nude right from the get go, bared completely to the camera with only the backdrop of deep blue satin sheets below him. He must have taken the time to set-up a tripod or something because his entire body is in shot, though his face is always infuriatingly out of frame. Keith isn’t sure why he thought that would change.</p>
<p>As Keith flicks through the photos his poses shift with each one. </p>
<p>Spread eagle on the bed, hand wrapped around his hard cock, the flash of the camera picking up the glisten of wetness gathering at the head.</p>
<p>Stretched out languidly like a cat, with his ass in the air and shoulders pressed to the mattress, giving the camera a good view of where his fingers are pressed tightly together inside of himself. </p>
<p>The third photo he’s closer to the camera, with a pretty-looking glass dildo held delicately on the flat of his tongue. The rest of his face is still infuriatingly cut off, but this is Keith’s first time seeing his mouth and for some reason he relishes even that. Leandro’s lips are cute and pink, perhaps due to lipstick, though Keith can’t really tell. </p>
<p>The fourth photo is Leandro with the glass dildo inside of himself, buried to the hilt with his hand wrapped around the base, to thrust it in and out. Everything is slick and inviting, his thighs spread wide like he wants someone to settle between them. Keith suddenly wishes that he’d sent more money, or at least been coherent enough to request a video. Fuck.</p>
<p>The final photo Leandro has cum splattered across his stomach and chest, his softening cock resting against his hip, his hands braced under his knees and holding his legs up and outward. Keith can see where the dildo is still inside of him, his rim clenched tight around it to keep it from sliding out without the grip of his hands. </p>
<p>God, what Keith would give to be there right now. He may not have had much to say last night, but now all he can think about is all the filthy things he’d be doing if he were in Leandro’s bed right now, settled between those smooth thighs with permission to touch. He’d wring another orgasm out of him in no time, would discard the dildo and shove his face in, licking him open and fucking him with his tongue instead. Though he was fairly quiet in that one video Keith had watched, he can’t help but imagine Leandro to be a screamer, loud and vocal the whole way through.</p>
<p>Fuck, imagine<em> fucking </em>him. </p>
<p>Feeling Leandro’s body tremble beneath his, his insides twitching and spasming around his cock, trying to pull him deeper. Leandro seems like the type of guy that would want it fast and hard, with his face pressed into the pillows and his hips held high to use for leverage. He’d probably teach Keith a thing or two about sex, would make him come harder than he ever had.</p>
<p>With a defeated sigh, Keith kicks off his pajamas and shoves a hand into his underwear. He’s a porn addict now apparently, went his whole life without it and now gets off twice in under twenty-four hours to the same stupid set of pictures. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Keith is trying to concentrate. He’s been trying to concentrate for the better part of four hours and it’s just not happening. He can force himself to look at the page in front of him, can force himself not to get distracted and look elsewhere, but he can’t physically force himself to draw. Even though that’s exactly what he needs to do and if he’d only get at it already then he’d be done! He wouldn’t need to concentrate anymore! </p>
<p>With an angry huff, he grabs his phone up off his desk and relents to one more distraction. After this he’s going to be productive though, he’s going to finish this before the night’s out no matter what! His mentor gave him a list of “homework” to complete and damn if he isn’t going to do a good job. He’s worked way too hard over the past three months to start letting himself slack off now. He’s not even getting paid yet, he can’t quit before he’s even fully given himself the chance to try.</p>
<p>His social media is mostly boring. His nsfw account is less boring, though that seems like a longer and more distracting distraction than he was willing to relent to.</p>
<p>He’s following quite a few accounts now, though he’s remained partial to one in particular from the very beginning and that doesn’t seem to be changing even now that he’s finding more creators he likes. He doesn’t really understand what exactly it is about Leandro that appeals to him so, but there’s no fighting it. He’s still the only one that’s ever gotten a cent of Keith’s money.</p>
<p>Though, sometimes it’s a wonder why, when he posts the stupidest things Keith has ever seen.</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: feeling bored and horny. Wondering if anyone wants to play a game? Dm me your nudes and I’ll give them a rating out of ten. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Come on, this is a little bit desperate even for you, don’t you think?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: It’s okay, you can just say you’re scared I won’t give you a good rating. </em>
</p>
<p>“Whatever.” Keith scoffs under his breath, to the empty room he’s sitting in. He leans back in his seat and continues scrolling, trying to ignore the itch begging to be scratched beneath his skin. He can’t help it, Leandro’s words linger in the back of his mind, something petty and competitive building in his chest. It’s the stupidest schoolyard taunt of all time, to make a jab about the appearance of someone’s dick.</p>
<p>And yet here Keith is, feeling the slightest bit miffed over it, unable to shake it.</p>
<p>If it were coming from literally anyone else, Keith would tell them to fuck off without a shred of hesitation behind the words. He doesn’t have a boistering ego that urges him to prove himself, he doesn’t rightly care about criticism over the body he was born with. It’s just, this isn’t something defensive that he’s grappling with right now, it’s a desire to impress.</p>
<p>Keith knows he has an impressive cock, alright?</p>
<p>He’s big. Big enough that it’s maybe a bit impractical in practice, but certainly impressive enough in theory. He’s had a few partners that were excited to take him back out when the clothes came off and they saw what they were actually working with, opting to use their mouths or their hands, or fuck Keith instead. If there’s one thing that is blatantly obvious about Leandro though, is that he’s a size queen, talks such a big game that he’d find a way to take Keith’s cock the the hilt inside of him no matter how long it took him to work himself open for it.</p>
<p>Slowly, Keith’s hand trails down his abdomen and to the button of his pants. He pops it open with one hand while the other frantically scrolls back up, tries to find Leandro’s post again. What would it hurt to send him one photo of his cock? It’s not like he’s going to include his face in it. Just a quick pic, to grab Leandro’s attention and prove that he’s working with something worth his time.</p>
<p>There’s a knock on his bedroom door and Keith wrenches his hand out of his pants so fast there’s a resounding smack of the elastic waistband hitting his stomach again. Fuck, what is happening to him lately? It’s like he’s a horny teenager sneaking around trying not to get caught all over again. </p>
<p>“Keith, I’m headed out.” Shiro’s voice echoes through the door, as neutral and indifferent as ever. Maybe it wasn’t as loud as it’d seemed, maybe Shiro didn’t actually hear at all, or at the very least had no idea what the sound actually was. “You still working on those flash sheets?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s probably gonna take the better half of the night.”</p>
<p>“Hey, rest your hands, get some sleep. It can wait until tomorrow. Feels like I’ve been watching you work yourself to the bones for weeks.” Shiro’s voice is nothing but kind and understanding, the most gentlest stern hand Keith has ever known. He also knows that Shiro means business though, doesn’t want Keith pushing himself too hard for a job he’s not yet getting paid to do, doesn’t want him hurting himself and having to wear braces on his wrists again.</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah. I can look after myself, go see your stupid boyfriend and be gross and in love.”</p>
<p>“Next time you wanna complain about how gross we are, remember that you’re the one that helped us get back together after our fight. You made your bed now lay in it.” Shiro singsongs back at him, all the care and wisdom gone from his voice in an instant. Keith groans, slumping over his desk, listening closely to Shiro’s retreating footsteps and the eventual sound of a door closing behind him.</p>
<p>Finally.</p>
<p>By now, Keith is almost fully hard in his jeans, straining against the layers of fabric pressing down on his growing erection. Unfortunately, cursed with an exhibitionism kink as he is, the fear of getting caught becomes a mixed-up cocktail of anxiety and arousal alike. When he gets a hand down his pants again, his cock is twitching in his palm, leaking from the tip and smearing pre-cum across his wrist. He groans, tipping his head back to stare up at the ceiling.</p>
<p>He stands, kicks off his clothes, and tumbles butt-naked into his bed. It seems like a better place to take a picture, as he lounges back against his pillows and props one leg up, debates how to pose himself. It’s not like he’s ever done this sort-of thing for anyone ever before. He at least has the common sense to know he should be fully hard though, so he grabs for the lube in his bedside table and coats his hand generously.</p>
<p>He hisses out a breath through his teeth when he takes himself in hand again, the cool lubricant quickly warming up as he makes quick work of running his hand over himself a few times. Base to tip, over and over, a standard uninvested warm-up before he tries to get creative. Soon he’s hard enough that he can feel his toes curling against the sheets each time his head slides back up his length, fingers cupping and framing the head of his cock.</p>
<p>He rubs his thumb across where he’s leaking, smears pre-cum through the slit of his cock and groans.</p>
<p>Before he misses his chance, he wipes one of his hands off on his shirt and grabs for his phone. The truth is, Keith has seen some absolutely terrible dick pics in his day. He doesn’t want to contribute to said stock floating around on the internet. If he’s gonna do this, he wants to give it an honest effort.</p>
<p>He takes about twenty pictures before getting fed up with looking at his own junk and deciding to send the one where the lighting was best, catching the sheer lube shining against his skin just right. At the end of the day, it’s a fucking penis, it’s gonna look more or less the same in all the photos. Whatever.</p>
<p>He sends it. Waits a grand total of five seconds before deciding that he has to say something, can’t deal with the sudden amounting nerves and panic in his throat. It’s ridiculous, to worry that Leandro won’t fucking like it, but he’s totally out of his element here and a rejection would be pretty brutalizing.</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: I swear, if you try to mess with me and give me a zero out of ten I’m never giving you another cent of my hard-earned money again.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: So, what, you’re not even gonna reply?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Give me a fucking second, Red, I’m /admiring/. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: You’ve got a really pretty cock. Bet it’d fit so nicely in my mouth. Mm. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: You ever had a guy give you head before? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Do I seem straight to you?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: No, but our last conversation kinda gave me virgin energy. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Not a virgin. Aren’t you supposed to give me a rating?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: 9/10. Your dick is damn nice, but your technique leaves a little to be desired. The angle is wonky and it’s not exactly the clearest photo I’ve ever seen. Invest in a better camera. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: I’m not going to invest in a better camera to send people high res photos of my genitals.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Ew, don’t call it your genitals, I’m trying to get off and that’s the least sexy way you could have phrased that. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: You’re getting off to my photo?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Never said that. I could be getting off to anyone’s photo. Horny and bored, remember? I felt like the getting off part was implied.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Nice tattoo, btw. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Thanks. It’s my first one. I did it myself about a month ago.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: No kidding. It turned out good.  </em>
</p>
<p>Keith is aware of how ridiculous it is when his cock jumps at the praise, how out of everything going on right now the thing that thrills him most is the compliment to his tattoo. It’s a tiny thing, a black outline of a simple dagger across his inner thigh, high enough that it’d be hidden from sight no matter what he was wearing. Except well, nothing at all.</p>
<p>Leandro was actually the first person to see it, given that the placement made it kind of difficult to bring up to anyone, let alone show them. But it wasn’t meant to be a showy tattoo, it was something personal to him. He’d drawn this exact dagger a hundred times over throughout his life, a go-to doodle on the edge of all his school papers or carved into a wooden desk. He had it memorized like the back of his hand at this point, tattooing it to himself had only felt natural.</p>
<p>The fact that Leandro had complimented it blossomed something warm and proud in Keith’s chest, intense enough to compete with his current arousal. A dopey smile spreads across his face.</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Thanks.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: And thank-you. There wasn’t really meant to be a winner to the game but damn, your pic really stole the show.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Do I get a prize?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Hm, and here I thought I was the desperate one?  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: You should know by now that no one makes me desperate like you do.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Well, in that case… enjoy, Red ;) </em>
</p>
<p>It’s a video.</p>
<p>Holy shit.</p>
<p>Keith doesn’t hesitate to scramble for his headphones and plug them into his ears, pressing play the very second he’s able to. He leans back against his pillows, snakes one hand back down to his cock while the other grips his phone like a lifeline. It’s pathetic how invested he is.</p>
<p>It’s immediately clear that this isn’t like the few videos Keith has actually bought from Leandro. His usual videos all seem to have more of a theme to them, with dynamic poses or toys or outfits or even curious settings like the shower or the kitchen counter. This time it’s just Leandro, bare in bed, camera propped seemingly on a bedside table if the angle is anything to go by. All that’s in frame is his torso and his hips, and where his hand is rapidly moving over his cock. It’s the most… amatuer thing that Keith has ever seen from him, and something about that makes it feel more real, more personal. </p>
<p>There’s none of the usual finesse, he isn’t teasing or being coy about it, drawing it out for the sake of putting on a show. He’s close right from the start of the video, like filming himself was a last second decision just before he came. Keith doesn’t care, this is the part that’s his favorite anyway, watching Leandro come undone.</p>
<p>Leandro’s beautiful like this. There’s a visible flush to his entire chest, sweat shining against his pecs and the divots of his stomach. He’s making low noises, something akin to a whimper, punched out of his chest with each pass of his hand. His thighs are trembling, but he manages to get his feet planted on the bed enough for leverage to fuck up into his fist, hips rocking in short jerky little thrusts. At the very edge of the frame, Keith can see where he’s biting his lip raw to try and hold back any louder noises. </p>
<p>When Leandro comes, it’s with a quiet cry that sounds almost pained. Keith feels it all the way through him like a jolt to his senses, from his head to his toes, concentrating at his cock where he’s rock hard and twitching in his own grasp. It doesn’t take long for him to follow, his orgasm taking him almost by surprise and wrenching a gasp out of his throat.</p>
<p>He coats his stomach in streaks of white, his hand pumping his cock so fast through it that it’s barely a blur of movement. He shudders through it, overwhelmed by the sensations. Eventually, when the initial tidal wave of ecstasy fades, he collapses back against the mattress. His head hits the pillow and his hair fans across it, damp with sweat. He closes his eyes, squeezes his cock one last time to try and ride out the aftershocks even longer.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Months upon months pass Keith by working under the watchful eye of his mentor. He’s there to watch the shop itself open to the public, to meet the experienced tattoo artists that are hired on and given their own stations, and all the while he practices… when he’s not scrubbing toilets, delivering lunches, and simply observing the other artists at work. He doesn’t get paid a dime for all his time and work, but strangely enough he finds he doesn’t mind that at all.</p>
<p>He’s just happy to be there. To be learning and taken seriously, to be a member of a team of people that care about his presence there. More than anything, he’s happy to have a goal he’s working toward, a sense of direction and passion about getting there. That in itself is worth more than the minimum wage he’d always scraped by with on previous jobs, he knows it is.</p>
<p>When the time inevitably comes that all his hard work pays off and his mentor finally informs him he’s going to be able to tattoo someone other than himself, the pride he feels is unlike anything he’s ever felt in his entire life. He’s never accomplished something so tangible. </p>
<p>His first tattoo on another person is as remarkably simple as expected, just a black silhouette of a key on a woman’s arm. Despite all the emotion coursing through him the entire time, the hummingbird flutter of his heart within his chest, he manages to keep his hands steady and his lines straight. She’s satisfied, she pays, and then she leaves. And that’s that, the whole process takes a little over an hour and then Keith goes back to manning the front desk like it never happened.</p>
<p>Except it did. And he can’t fight the giddy grin off his lips no matter how desperately he tries, and try he does. He feels almost manic with it, the happiness and pride, the praise his mentor had given him for doing a good job. By the time his shift is over, Keith’s face hurts from grinning so hard.</p>
<p>It’s not long after that he’s hurrying home, driving just on the edge of recklessly because he’s so impatient to share this moment with the person he cares most about. It won’t be news to Shiro, they’d both known that today was the day it was going to happen for a while now, but still. He knows that Shiro will feel the same giddiness, will understand how full and overwhelmed his heart feels right now.</p>
<p>If he slams the door behind himself when he stumbles into the apartment, that’s nobody’s business.</p>
<p>“Shiro!” Keith calls impatiently, before he’s even managed to kick off his boots fully. He charges into the living room, envelope firmly clutched between his fingers. Shiro comes around the corner at the same time and they collide, but Keith quickly pries himself back from Shiro’s chest and wedges the envelope between the two of them. “My first official pay from my first official client. My art is on someone’s body forever.”</p>
<p>“Keith.” Shiro’s voice is all soft and weak, like his breath has been stolen from him. It’s exactly the kind of sentimental reaction Keith was hoping for, the kind that he’d be cringing over at any other time. He can’t make sense of it, but now more than ever he wants the attention, he wants people to be proud of him, to see something great in him. He’s never felt more deserving. “God, you bastard, do you have to phrase it like that? You’re gonna make me cry.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” Keith laughs, in a way that makes it very clear he isn’t at all sorry. “I’m just so happy.”</p>
<p>“You think I’m not?! Nothing makes me happier than seeing you this happy. I’m so proud of you.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, Shiro.” Keith grins, tossing the envelope aside. It wasn’t about the paycheck then and it isn’t now, not really. He plasters himself right back against Shiro’s chest by choice this time, hugs him tightly in a rare genuine display of emotion. Shiro hugs him back after a few seconds, like it takes him that long to get over the shock of it. “Really, I couldn’t have done it without you. It made all the difference having someone in my corner, rooting for me. I’m really glad you’re here with me.”</p>
<p>Keith doesn’t know what’s come over him, but he can’t help but say everything that’s on his mind. It isn’t like him. He’s never been the type to hold back for anyone else’s sake, but he’s never been the type to open up emotionally either. He walks a fine line, of bold for all the things that don’t really matter, and intensely shy about the things that do. He hopes that he isn’t weirding Shiro out with this.</p>
<p>“Haha, Shiro’s crying.” The observation comes from the far corner of the room, the voice that says it completely impassive to Shiro’s apparent distress. A choked noise sounds from above Keith, where Shiro is folded over him. Come to think of it, Keith thinks he might have felt a couple teardrops hit his head a moment ago.</p>
<p>“Shut-up, Adam!” Shiro hisses angrily, pulling away from the hug to glare at his boyfriend for ruining the moment. Keith laughs at the display, turning to stare toward Adam. He’s sitting in his usual spot on the couch and Keith doesn’t know how he didn’t notice him before now. It’s not rare to find him here most evenings now, having practically moved in with them despite the tiny two bedroom apartment.</p>
<p>“Oh, hey Adam. I didn’t realize you were here.” </p>
<p>“Congrats, Keith. I’m really happy for you.”</p>
<p>But then silence envelopes the room, and Keith can’t describe it, but he gets the strangest feeling of unwelcomeness. Which is stupid, given that Shiro is literally in the process of trying to pull him back into a hug and prolong the moment, but… there’s a tension there that Keith can’t bring himself to ignore.</p>
<p>“Did I interrupt something?”</p>
<p>“No.” Shiro answers, immediately, far too rushed to be casual. It only confirms Keith’s suspicions, has him pulling completely away and putting a few steps space between them. He lifts a single questioning eyebrow up at Shiro, distrust plain on his features. Shiro knows he’s been caught, the dread that settles over his face is obvious.</p>
<p>“Well, he kinda did.” Adam adds, leaning back to rest his head against the back of the couch and stare at them upside down. Keith’s nose wrinkles in disgust, glancing between the two of them.</p>
<p>“Ew. On the couch? Really? I sleep there sometimes.”</p>
<p>“No!” Shiro says, sounding completely exasperated. “It wasn’t anything like that! We were just… well, I was… I was trying to, anyway, before-”</p>
<p>“Spit it out, Takashi. We’re all on the edge of our seats here.” Adam snarks, but there’s no bite to it, it’s said with so much fondness that Keith can hear the smile he wears before he sees it for himself. Shiro doesn’t look like he’s ever gonna spit it out, his cheeks darkening to a deep red, his lips pressed firmly together. So Keith is left to deduce.</p>
<p>It’s only on his third glance in Adam’s direction that he catches it, the glint of metal on his finger where it’s pressed over his mouth, likely to hide his smile. Keith’s jaw drops. Adam lights up from the inside out, radiating so much happiness that Keith has no idea how he missed it before now. “Did something catch your eye, Keith?”</p>
<p>Keith whips around to gape at Shiro like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing uselessly.</p>
<p>“You <em> proposed </em>?” Keith chokes out finally, and Shiro still looks at a loss for words so he simply nods in answer. Keith chuckles senselessly, tilting his head back and shaking it in disbelief. Of course he knew it was coming, eventually, they’d been inseparable since their last fight and they definitely seemed all the stronger for it. Shiro had even confessed, once or twice, always late at night… that he’d bought a ring and was only waiting for the right moment. However, Keith thought he’d be informed of the right moment before it happened. </p>
<p>This is a pleasant surprise, one that leaves him choked up and at a loss for words himself. He can see how happy they both are, practically bursting at the seams to talk about it. And Keith has never considered himself to be a romantic, he’s never loved the idea of love, never envisioned a future for himself that even ended in marriage. But it’s so right for Shiro, it’s everything he deserves, a family man through and through. Keith wants that for him so badly it hurts.</p>
<p>He wipes at his face, cursing himself. “Shiro. I’m so happy for you.”</p>
<p>“Aw, great, now you’re both crying.” Adam observes warmly, rising from the couch to come around and pull them both into a hug. Keith goes willingly, laughing breathlessly the entire time, still in a state of shock over the news.</p>
<p>“I’m not crying!” He denies vehemently, because he’ll never live it down if they both notice and make fun of him for it. They’re a relentless duo like that. “What the hell?! Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna propose?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. It wasn’t really something I planned. I mean, yeah, I bought the ring forever ago and of course I knew I wanted to marry him. I’ve known that since the day we got together.” Shiro pauses, glances to Adam like he’d only just realized he could hear how sappy he was being. “But then we had that fight, and I just never really thought about it when we got back together. Until today, when he was cooking dinner and it just kinda overtook me. I couldn’t<em> not </em>do it. It had to be right that second.”</p>
<p>As if on instinct, Shiro’s gaze keeps drifting back to Adam, a small smile edging its way across his lips seemingly without his notice. Eventually, he caves, pulling away from the hug entirely to grip Adam’s jaw and pull him in for a kiss. Keith groans in disgust, rolling his eyes and stumbling away from the embrace and putting a good few feet of space between them. He collapses onto the couch, waiting until their moment passes.</p>
<p>“I love you.” Adam says, presumably the very moment they’re done kissing. It’s spoken softly, quiet enough that Keith barely hears it over the noise of the tv. He doesn’t look back at them either, gives them their privacy.</p>
<p>“I love you too.” Shiro replies, much louder, like he wants the whole world to hear it or at the very least to make sure that Keith does. Keith rolls his eyes, sinks down lower into the cushions and waits it out until they both sit down on either side of him. He looks over at Shiro. “We should celebrate! Our engagement and your first paycheck doing what you love.” </p>
<p>“I’d love to…”</p>
<p>“Let me guess, but you can’t?”</p>
<p>“Work is really kicking my ass lately. I have to practice for this piece I have booked in a couple weeks and the new hire James is so competitive it isn’t even funny and I need to get these flash-”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay. You’re busy. We get it.” Shiro relents easily, knowing better than to press Keith by now. He trusts that Keith knows what he’s doing, what’s a priority and what isn’t. Keith appreciates that about him more than he probably knows. “We’re going to go out for dinner. How about you stay home and celebrate however you can. Order some takeout, have a nice bath, watch your favorite movie. I don’t know, just do<em> something </em> for yourself. I swear all you do is work, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t even feel like work, I’m having so much fun with it.”</p>
<p>“Still, you could use a break.” Shiro insists, more than he usually would. Keith knows he’s right, though it still feels urgent in the back of his mind, like he has to do it or everything will come crumbling down around him. He doesn’t want to take what he has for granted, won’t risk losing it now. As much as he’s loathe to admit it, Shiro must know him well enough to see right through what he’s thinking. “Keith, this is huge. You deserve to celebrate it. It’s not selfish of you to be proud, you’re not gonna jynx it. Be happy about your accomplishments. So much has changed in just over a year and it’s all thanks to your hard work and dedication. Treat yourself.”</p>
<p>“I will.” Keith promises, with only the slightest bit of hesitation. He will treat himself, he just might work a little bit first, so he feels like he deserves it more. The look Shiro gives him says that he’s still following Keith’s line of thought and doesn’t approve at all, but he doesn’t bring it up this time. </p>
<p>An hour or so later and Keith finds himself seeing Shiro and Adam off, practically shoving them out the door while Shiro begs him to come along. Keith doesn’t really fancy the idea of being a third wheel tonight, and though Adam is being kind about expressing it, it’s pretty obvious he wants Shiro to himself tonight too. So, as much as Shiro loves them both and wants them included, Keith kindly rejects him and sees him on his way.</p>
<p>Shiro’s words have a way of haunting him though, even when the idiot isn’t around. The guilt eats at Keith, as he sits down and tries in vain to concentrate on his work. He ends up with his face buried in his hands, before promptly going to the bathroom and drawing himself a bath. It’s not his usual idea of relaxation, but he doesn’t exactly have a standard self-care regime. Shiro seems to enjoy baths well enough, so he’d surely approve of Keith’s decision.</p>
<p>Not long later, Keith sinks down into water just on the edge of burning, engulfing himself up to his chin and sighing contently. He closes his eyes, rest his head against the rim of the tub. Begrudgingly, he can admit that this is kind-of nice, better than letting himself sit there and lose his mind by his lack of productivity. Who knows, maybe he’ll feel up to doing something more once he gets out.</p>
<p>Eventually, he tires of his own company and reaches for his phone to pass the time. </p>
<p>It’s not necessarily a surprise to see Leandro’s posts clogging his feed. He’s been growing in popularity, followers doubling and tripling since Keith found him. It seems the extra attention has only made him hungry for more, as he’s nearly always online nowadays. Strangely, Keith doesn’t mind the spam.</p>
<p>Come to think of it, maybe Keith does have a personal idea of self-care. He knows what it means to treat himself, he just isn’t entirely sure it’s what Shiro intended by the words. Not that it’s any of his business.</p>
<p>By now, Keith has a small roster of videos and pictures saved to his phone. It seems like he’s spending money on Leandro every other week, but he never finds himself regretting it. Besides, it makes him feel good to know that he’s supporting someone who gets the money directly, where every dollar makes a difference. They’re both profiting from the arrangement, so what more could he ask for?</p>
<p>Well, there is one thing. One thing he’s been debating deeply for a few weeks now. One thing that he would empty his entire bank account for. What started as an impassive thought quickly stewed into a desperate attention-stealing one.</p>
<p>Messaging Leandro directly is always a trip, a buzz of nerves and a flood of adrenaline when he almost always replies right away. Keith isn’t the type to reach out to people, but something about Leandro makes it seem easier. He’s so welcoming, so eager to accommodate. And sure, maybe some of that has to do with the fact that he makes his money by entertaining Keith, but Keith likes to pretend there’s more to it than that. The few short conversations they’ve had have been fun and easy, like they could be friends under very different circumstances.</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: do you make custom videos</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: for a loyal customer such as yourself? I’m sure something could be arranged ;) </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: got something kinky in mind? A special request I wouldn’t otherwise do? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: can I see your face?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: no can do. I’d die if my family ever found out i do this for a living. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: i wouldn’t show anyone, it’d be just between you and me.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: It’s not happening. Respect my right to say no. </em>
</p>
<p>Keith feels like he’s going to be sick. He’s never had Leandro talk to him like that, showing him anything other than kindness and agreeableness. He hopes that he hasn’t crossed a line and offended him in a way he can’t come back from. That really wasn’t his intention. He just… wanted to know. What Leandro looked like. If his face was as pretty as the rest of them.</p>
<p>Fuck. He’s so stupid. How can he possibly earn Leandro’s forgiveness now?</p>
<p>An idea strikes him and he runs with it, aware that every second that passes is making things tenser.</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: sorry. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: did you just send me money as an apology? I fucking love you. </em>
</p>
<p><b>Redwolf19: didn’t mean to offend you or cross any boundaries. I’m really sorry.</b> </p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: it’s fine, baby, don’t worry. Now, is there anything else you’d like to see from me? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: i don’t know. I can’t really think of anything specific.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: come on, we both know there’s something you want. No need to be shy, I love fulfilling fantasies, it’s my job. All you have to do is ask. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: wanna hear me say your name while I fuck myself open on my fingers? Wanna see me use one of my toys in specific, you’ve been following me long enough i’m sure you have a favorite? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: what’s your favorite?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: you know, you’re a hard one to decipher. I can’t tell if you’re a sub and you want me to call the shots and boss you around a little, or if you’re just one of those really considerate service tops that wanna spoil me and take care of me.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: which do you want me to be?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: I just want you to feel good, to enjoy yourself. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: So… I have a vibrator. It’s nothing pretty or kinky or fun, in any way, it’s honestly the most utilitarian to-the-point sex toy I own. Solid black color, obviously fake, doesn’t resemble a dick in any way, probably something your mom owns. But fuck, man, I don’t know. It was my first toy and as much as I love the nicer ones I have now, this is the one I come back to time and time again. Literally. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Feels so fucking good inside me.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: yeah?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Fuck yeah. It has this curve to it, presses inside at just the right angle, I swear to god I could come just from that alone. With a hand on myself it only takes a couple minutes at most. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: never used it on camera before… it never seemed like something that would appeal to the general audience </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: are you fucking kidding me? I would pay anything.</b>
</p>
<p>The better part of a hundred bucks gone out of his account later, the excitement is building in Keith’s veins, burning beneath his skin hot enough to compete with the water of the bath. While he waits for the video to arrive, with the knowledge that wherever Leandro is he’s currently getting himself off, touching himself and fucking a toy into his ass at Keith’s request… Keith gets out of the bath and drains the water. He falls into his bed a few seconds later, naked and still dripping the scent of lavender. </p>
<p>By then, his phone is dinging with an incoming message. It’s only been a little over ten minutes, but Leandro works fast, or at least the toy does. Keith smirks to himself, rolls over and spreads his legs, reaches down to finally give attention to his cock. Even though he hasn’t been touching himself, he’s achingly hard, pre-cum dripping obsecenely down his length when he reaches down to grip himself in hand. </p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: So… I might have gotten a little bit carried away. Hope you enjoy! </em>
</p>
<p>Keith bites his bottom lip hard enough to threaten blood, his hips hitching up into his touch on their own accord. He can’t wait any longer, not after a promise like that. Without further ado, he starts the video and gets himself comfortable against the headboard. </p>
<p>Leandro wasn’t exactly wrong, compared to the toys he usually uses the one he introduces in this video is small and inconspicuous. It’s only about four or five inches altogether, with a harsh curve to the end of it that makes the purpose of it very clear. It doesn’t really surprise Keith that something like this had been Leandro’s first toy, because of the limited toys Keith himself has bought and rarely bothers to use… he’s pretty sure he owns something similar.</p>
<p>It looks better in Leandro’s hands though, as the video starts with him up close to the camera and fitting his lips tightly around silicone. He sucks the toy into his mouth with a hum, his throat flexing as he swallows around it. He opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, so Keith can watch as he thrusts the toy into the slick cradle of his tongue, to the back of his throat. </p>
<p>Keith starts a steady rhythm, eagerly jerking himself off to the sight.</p>
<p>Thankfully, maybe because he’s aware of Keith’s purchase history and knows his preferences by now, or maybe because he’s impatient himself… Leandro doesn’t spend long teasing the main event. In less than a minute, he’s laying back across his bed, mindful to keep his face out of frame. </p>
<p>Keith doesn’t really mind, not when he’s so plainly distracted by all the skin on display. Leandro spreads his legs and grabs for a bottle that was off-screen, covering his fingers in the thick clear substance until they’re shining in the warm lighting of the room. Wherever Leandro is, the sun must be setting there, while it’s been dark out for a couple hours in Texas.</p>
<p>He fingers himself hastier than he normally would, introducing the first two at once with a quiet moan. He pumps them inside of himself a few times, until his hole is shiny with lube, twitching visibly around the intrusion and trying to pull his fingers in deeper. He doesn’t even bother with a third finger, and though the toy is sleek and smaller than most, Keith imagines he must feel the stretch all the same when he pushes it inside himself and his hips arch right off the mattress.</p>
<p>The cry he lets out is beautiful, unrestrained and loud, punched out of him like the toy hit his prostate on the first thrust inside. His legs kick out in pleasure, the video itself wobbling as he no doubt kicks the camera stand by accident. It rights itself eventually though, and Keith watches as Leandro starts to fuck himself properly with the toy, gripping the base between slick fingers to pull it back and thrust it back in again, over and over. </p>
<p>It isn’t long after that Leandro seems to compose himself enough to remember something, picking himself up on his elbows. Keith watches closely as he fumbles with the toy, before eventually locating a switch on the bottom. The low buzz of vibration is audible even to the camera’s mic, and Keith can hear it as quiet background noise to the moans Leandro starts to let out.</p>
<p>Any composure he was loosely holding onto is gone now, as he writhes across the sheets and rocks back against the toy inside him. There’s a desperate edge to it now, as he chases his pleasure ruthlessly.</p>
<p>“Ah, <em> ah </em> , hnn, fuck! F-Fuck, feels so <em> fuckin’ </em> good.” Leandro moans, bringing his free hand down to work his cock while the toy vibrates mercilessly inside of him. </p>
<p>“Jesus.” Keith curses, resisting the urge to pause the video and compose himself because he doesn’t want to come before it’s over. It’s not an easy feat though, he’s holding onto his restraint by a thread as Leandro angles himself just right, so Keith can watch as he pulls the toy completely free and drives it back into himself all at once. He’s moaning constantly now, little mewls and whimpers that shoot pleasure straight up Keith’s cock, from root to tip.</p>
<p>“Mm, I’m getting close.” Leandro chokes out, wrapping his free hand around himself. Keith watches as Leandro’s fingers cup the head of his cock, squeezing and carressing where he’s oozing drops of pre-cum. </p>
<p>The moment he’s going to come is obvious by now, Keith somehow knows him well enough to read his signs. The way his thighs twitch and shudder, the way he draws a breath and simply holds it there, the way his jaw goes slack and his pretty lips fall slightly agape, unable to hold back the sounds he makes as that first shot of cum streaks his abs. “Fuck, yes! Yes, yes, ye-”</p>
<p>As he comes, Leandro clamps his thighs together around the vibrator, squeezing and tugging at his cock as it spills across his skin. He cries out through it, moaning like he’s dying. And when the pleasure starts to wane, the shots of cum ebbing away into weak blurts from the tip of his cock… pearlescent white drips over his knuckles, down the length of his twitching cock, down further between his thighs and over his balls.</p>
<p>Keith himself is seconds away from finishing, would probably spill from one flick of his wrist, but he’s hesitating. There’s still a good thirty seconds of video after this and he doesn’t understand why, when normally Leandro cuts the clip as soon as he’s come. So Keith slows his hand, lets himself come back from the edge as he watches Leandro struggle to catch his breath on screen.</p>
<p>About fifteen seconds later, Leandro reaches somewhere off-screen. Keith furrows his eyebrows together, wondering if he’s even meant to be seeing this part of the video or if it was added accidentally.</p>
<p>He gets his answer pretty plainly when Leandro’s hand returns to his view with another vibrator in hand.</p>
<p>It’s an even simpler thing, a round little bullet vibe that Leandro toys with between his fingers before bringing it down between his legs almost hesitantly. Keith is confused as to what his intentions are, given that he still has a toy inside of himself that he’s yet to remove or even turn off. </p>
<p>Still, he watches as Leandro turns the bullet on and it starts to buzz to life in his palm. Then, slowly, almost reluctantly… Leandro wraps his fingers one by one around his softening cock and presses the vibrator up against the head where it’s still wet with cum. Keith’s jaw drops.</p>
<p>“What the hell?”</p>
<p>“S-See, the thing is, you weren’t very specific about your request, Red.” Leandro drawls slowly, just a hint of a smile visible to Keith. He sounds absolutely wrecked, like it’s taking a great deal of effort to force out each word when he’s so distracted. He licks his lips, abdomen flexing uselessly against the onslaught of pleasure, entire body tensing up as it fights against the dual sensations against his cock and inside his ass. </p>
<p>He slides the vibrator down the length of his cock, nestling it against his balls as he struggles to compose himself enough to speak. “You said you wanted me to feel good. You didn’t exactly tell me when to<em> stop </em>. Kind of greedy of you, huh? Guess I’ll just… keep going until you tell me not to.”</p>
<p>Realization hits Keith like a train. He forgets himself, forgets his own orgasm entirely, and rapidly switches back to their conversation to message Leandro again.</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Are you still?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: fuck, took you long enoguh. thought you’d never finish the video </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Think you can come again? Will you film it for me?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: idk, it might cost extra </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: I don’t fucking care, send it to me.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: please</b>
</p>
<p>It’s miserable waiting for Leandro to film and send the video, pent up and on the very edge of orgasm, his cock straining uselessly in his grip as he squeezes it to stave off the urge. It’s no use though, he’s so rock-hard at this point that he knows he’s going to come the first stroke in. Even though it takes over ten minutes for the video to arrive, which means Leandro has been teasing himself back to hardness and to a second orgasm for a good fifteen, Keith is still just as hard when it comes.</p>
<p>When the video finally, finally arrives… Keith jumps to play it with all the desperation of a man starved for weeks. There’s no composure left to give, no use in pretending, he’s shamefully invested.</p>
<p>The first thing Keith registers are the sounds, Leandro gasping for breath as the noises are torn from his throat with each pulse of the vibrators against his sensitive nerve-endings. He sounds like he’s being tortured with it, mostly whimpers at first, but quickly progressing into what can only be described as overwhelmed wailing as he continues to shift the vibrator across the tip of his cock in sweet agony.</p>
<p>He’s not quite soft, quickly hardening again though it seems his body is fighting it every step of the way, insisting it isn’t possible even as it happens. As he hardens, Leandro starts to curse under his breath. At first it’s mostly coherent English, that then becomes slurred, and eventually becomes stuttered and stilted Spanish that Keith only understands bits and pieces of. What he can understand seems to be begging. Whether it’s for mercy or for <em> more </em>, is unknown to him. </p>
<p>The video is seven whole minutes of watching Leandro milk another orgasm out of himself before he comfortably can, and Keith is pretty sure he’s just been introduced to a new sadistic side of himself because nothing has ever turned him on more than watching Leandro torture himself in the name of chasing pleasure.</p>
<p>It’s almost uncanny, how Keith loses the control he’s hanging onto white-knuckled and desperate, in the same moment that Leandro’s body finally reaches the peak he’s been working tirelessly toward this whole time. Keith comes seconds before Leandro does, their moans mirroring each other as ecstasy blindsides them both. It’s intense, it always is lately now that Keith has a muse for all of this apparent sexual desire he’s been hoarding to himself, unaware. Every time Leandro makes him come, it’s better than the last.</p>
<p>It takes him a full minute of panting and gasping for breath afterward, riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm, before he can lift his head and look at the final thirty seconds or so of the video. He rewinds, back to just before Leandro came, so he can watch him lose himself in it again. He watches the way his cock jerks in his hand, giving weak juts of cum around the vibrator pressed to the head of it. It’s not as much as the first time he came, nowhere near the amount that Keith just covered himself in, but something about seeing the way Leandro uses two hands to work his cock as he comes is even more satisfying.</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: that was so hot</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: hopefully you came then, because between the two of us, I’m not getting it up a third time no matter how much money you offer me. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Trust me, I definitely fucking came.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: oh? well in that case… you’re welcome. Happy to be of service, tips are more than welcome if you feel so inclined. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: You’re gonna take me for every cent I own, aren’t you?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Mm, maybe, but I’m worth it, aren’t I? </em>
</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>It’s not necessarily a surprise when the tattoo parlor he’s been working at goes bankrupt. As much as he looked up to his mentor, Rolo, he’d never been the most solid financially. Take into account all the competition nearby, and the fact they were a new shop among so many already-established joints, it isn’t exactly a blindsiding conclusion. Keith is disappointed, they all are, but it’d been a good run of it the past three years. </p>
<p>Keith at least has experience under his belt now, he’s tattooed a few hundred people and has raging reviews to prove it. Not to mention… he’s sort-of become famous? In his own right, of course. He wouldn’t consider himself a celebrity, and he definitely doesn’t consider himself a pro by any stretch of the word, but he is <em> popular </em>. The entire time he’d been working, he’d been posting photos of his sketches and his finished tattoos, and his following had steadily grown.</p>
<p>What had once been an intimidating five hundred, is now a mind-boggling hundred <em> thousand </em>. </p>
<p>He gets invitations to feature as a guest artist at other shops from time to time, but he’d been too loyal to his humble beginnings to consider it. His shop was a small one, they couldn’t really afford to lose him even temporarily. He’d kindly rejected every message sent his way. But now that he’s in the market for another job, he doesn’t imagine he’ll struggle to find one. Especially not when his attachments here are nonexistent and he’s willing to move for work if the opportunity presents itself.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>The opportunity does present itself. The opportunity of a lifetime.</p>
<p>It has him packing up his things and moving halfway across the country, to work with one of his tattoo artist idols that he’s been following since long before he thought he’d ever be doing this himself. This guy <em> is </em> an actual celebrity, as far as Keith (as well as his follower count) is concerned. Thace Marmora was a legend in the tattooing industry, with his own television series and forty years experience. </p>
<p>So the fact that he reached out to Keith, of all people? Saw potential in him? It was surreal.</p>
<p>It isn’t an offer for a job at first. It was simply an invitation to come and visit, an offer to make connections and socialize, to attend some high-end event in California. An offer to be tattoed by Thace himself, which Keith had only been dreaming of for half of his adult life. So, of course he says yes, he’s practically on the next flight out.</p>
<p>Meeting Thace is surreal. He’s a gruff guy, not exactly the talkative or the charming type, but what he doesn’t express with words he sure says through his art. Keith is happy to sit in silence in the back corner of his shop and watch him work, to learn from the few tips that Thace would throw his way when he felt like it. They spend a lot of time together, but the presence is easy. They’re almost kindred souls, Keith seeing a lot of himself in Thace, and he could only assume that Thace must have seen it in him too given how long the visit stretched on.</p>
<p>The visit was meant to be a week. It quickly turned into two, and then three, and then four… and it would have been longer than that if Keith’s savings could have afforded it. He couldn’t bring himself to ask Thace for any more money either, after he’d paid for his flight out here. He already felt like he’d mooched enough from the man he looked up to.</p>
<p>When he finally worked up the nerve to tell Thace he was planning on leaving, it was a bittersweet moment for sure. He was happy to be going back home of course, he missed Shiro and Adam dearly, but there was still so much to learn and experience for him here. No visit would have been long enough.</p>
<p>“Thace?”</p>
<p>“Hm?” Thace doesn’t even look up from his computer where he’s been settled for the last couple hours, working on the employee payrolls in silence. Keith isn’t sure why he chose to stick around today after closing, idly drawing in his sketchbook in one of the waiting room chairs. Maybe he’d been stalling for time before he’d inevitably have to pass on this very news.</p>
<p>There’s a long moment of silence where Keith simply sits there, struggling to find the right words. It lasts long enough that Thace actually looks up from his work, letting his glasses slide down his nose as he stares curiously in Keith’s direction. His thick eyebrows are drawn together in confusion.</p>
<p>“I just wanted to let you know that I think this is going to be my last week here.” Keith says in a rush, gingerly closing the notebook settled on his lap. He tries to keep his full undivided attention on Thace as he speaks, but he still can’t help but be intimidated by the man’s gaze. “I’m gonna book a flight for this weekend and head back to Texas.”</p>
<p>A pause. </p>
<p>“Why?” Thace asks the question completely impassive, his expression as unreadable as ever. Keith is really fumbling in the dark here, trying to understand what Thace is thinking. He’s not an emotional kind of guy, so Keith hadn’t been expecting an intense reaction, but a little bit more than this would have been nice. He wanted to be sure that he was leaving them on good terms.</p>
<p>“I just can’t really afford to stay here without any income.”</p>
<p>“Get a job then.” </p>
<p>“In L.A? With all due respect, I’m not about to do anything other than tattoo work and I don’t think I could work for one of your competitors. So, that’s not really an option.” </p>
<p>“Keith.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t <em> suggesting </em>working for a competitor.” Thace says finally, a quiet uncharacteristic chuckle slipping past his lips. He shakes his head, very plainly amused as his gaze lands on a very shocked Keith again. Keith gapes back at him, disbelief gripping him to his core. This can’t be happening.</p>
<p>“Shit. Are you… <em> offering </em>?”</p>
<p>“Do you really think I kept you here this long and didn’t plan on anything coming from it? The first week might have been a trial, but I’ve had my mind made up since then. I thought it was you who was on the fence, so I figured I’d let you take your time to decide. I know it’s a lot to ask, to move across the country for a job. You said you have family in Texas, a brother, I just figured you weren’t sure.”</p>
<p>“Seriously?”</p>
<p>“Seriously. You want a job here, you’ve got one.” Thace confirms, a smile stretching across his face. It’s a rare expression on him, a man much more familiar with scowls. He’s a naturally cranky looking guy, Keith can’t deny that. It’d taken him days to convince himself that Thace didn’t actively hate him, that that was just how he naturally was. Apparently, he’d not only not hated Keith, he’d actively liked him… enough to offer him a position in one of the most high-end and renowned tattoo shops in the world.</p>
<p>Holy shit.</p>
<p>“Uh, yeah? Yeah, I’d love that. When do I start? Tomorrow?”</p>
<p>“At least you’re eager, kid.” Thace says with a shrug, getting to his feet and walking over to sit in one of the chairs across from Keith. “It’ll take a couple weeks to renovate the back room into a new station for you. We’ll want to do some advertising online too, make sure our followers know you’re here. You head back home to visit this weekend and get your things together, sort everything out. I imagine we’ll be ready for you by the end of the month.”</p>
<p>“O-Okay.” Keith stutters out, trying to reign in his excitement. “Thank-you. I’m really looking forward to working here. If you need me to help with cleaning or the cash-”</p>
<p>“None of that. I’m not taking you on as an apprentice, alright? I don’t need a cleaner and I don’t need a cashier, I already have them. What I don’t have, is someone that can do what you do. I’ve seen your skill, I know what you’re capable of. In all honesty, you probably won't even have the time to mop floors and scrub toilets. You’re gonna be booked solid before too long.”</p>
<p>Keith inhales sharply, feeling the telltale pang of pride in his chest. He’d never expected to receive such a straightforward compliment from Thace, who seemed so stingy with praise toward anyone. It’s a surreal feeling, having his idol recognize his abilities. It makes him all the more eager to prove himself.</p>
<p>“Thank-you.” Keith breathes. “I really appreciate it.”</p>
<p>“Don’t mention it.” Thace dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “You need money for your flight back?”</p>
<p>“Oh, no! I’m good, I’ve got it covered.” Keith says hurriedly, not wanting to press his luck any further, still in disbelief that he’s been given as much as he has. Jesus. A giddy smile envelopes his face and he looks back up at Thace, grinning wider. “Thank-you.”</p>
<p>“Keith, you really needn’t thank me.” Thace gets to his feet, offers Keith his coat from the rack. Keith accepts it, shrugging on the leather jacket and reaching back to tie his hair up. “Hopefully by the time you get back you get all that gratitude worked out of your system, not sure how many times I can handle being thanked for something that I know is gonna benefit the both of us equally. It’s not some selfless charitable decision, Keith, you’re bringing something invaluable to the table here too.”</p>
<p>“I guess it’s just gonna take a while to get used to, that’s all.”</p>
<p>“Well, assuming everything goes to plan, you’ll have plenty of time. I can see you being here a long time, if that’s what you’d like to do.”</p>
<p>“I’d really like that. I really would.”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>After that, Keith’s life becomes a whirlwind. Coming back home would have been an ordeal on its own, but to immediately begin packing before he’s even settled in is a nightmare. On top of that, he doesn’t have a place lined up in L.A for when he gets back there, so there’s a good chance he’s gonna be stuck living in Shiro’s mini van that he’s borrowing to transport his stuff across the country. Shiro is a nuisance as well, completely over-emotional about seeing Keith move so far away.</p>
<p>It’s only a week into packing that Keith finally gives and just yells at Shiro to come with him, if he’s going to make such a big deal over it and start crying every time Keith mentions going. And just like that, like the idea had never before occurred to him, Shiro agrees on the spot.</p>
<p>Keith will never admit it in a million years, but the moving process is a lot less daunting now that he knows Shiro is coming with him. They rent a U-haul trailer for the van, Shiro sells off everything that can’t come with them. He’s a lot more organized than Keith, and all of their belongings are neatly packed into boxes within a few days.</p>
<p>And where both Keith and Shiro are slacking, Adam steps in and sets them all up with a friend of a friend who knows a landlord who lives in L.A… and long story short, the three of them are city-bound with an actual destination at the end of the month. Their apartment is a tiny two bedroom, half the size of the one just Keith and Shiro had been living in, but they’ll work their way up from there.</p>
<p>Besides, as Keith sits in the backseat crushed between boxes, listening to Adam and Shiro perform a terrible duet to every song that comes on the radio… Keith relents and admits to himself that there are certainly worse people he could live in a shoebox-sized apartment with for the foreseeable future.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Keith rolls his sleeves up his arms and sets to work, going about cleaning his station after his last appointment of the day. Even from the back room, he can hear the guy chattering on to Ezor, their front desk girl. He’d been the talkative type, much to Keith’s dismay. Small talk was probably the hardest part about this whole job, especially when he had to tattoo people whose personality was as lively as a rock.</p>
<p>The guy had asked him about sports five separate times, for five separate sports. </p>
<p>Anyway, Keith had been glad to see him go. He feels a bit bad about leaving it to Ezor to explain the aftercare process, normally he handles that himself and he knows she’s probably just as impatient to get home after a long shift, but he really couldn’t stand to be in the guy’s presence for another minute. He almost wishes he hadn’t done such a great job on the tattoo, losing his reputation was a small price to pay if it meant making sure that Chad over there didn’t come back and haunt him with more questions about football.</p>
<p>His shift is technically over now, all that’s left to do is clean up and head out, but he falls back onto his stool and digs his phone out to procrastinate it. Most of the other artists have already headed out, other than Zethrid as she waits for her girlfriend to finish up with Chad. </p>
<p>Keith checks his social media, posts a photo of a tattoo he’d done earlier that day that he was particularly proud of. Ezor pops her head into the room to let him know that her and Zethrid are headed out, so he has to lock up when he goes. He goes back to aimlessly scrolling for a couple minutes, before finally deciding to get off his ass and head home.</p>
<p>Except… that’s the exact moment he receives a message. </p>
<p>It’s been a while since he’s heard from Leandro. Like this, anyway, with an actual conversation rather than just payments and photos exchanged back and forth. He’s still a regular customer, now more so than ever before, if anything, since he has money to spare most weeks. It just hasn’t been a very personal relationship lately, with how busy he is. </p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: I’m thinking about starting a private subscription service for frequent buyers. It would be exclusive content no one else would get to see. Some kinkier stuff I’m more apprehensive about posting publicly on the internet, maybe a couple videos of my boyfriend fucking me. Would you be interested? If not, just disregard this entire message. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: PS: you haven’t been online as much lately. I hope everything’s okay. I kinda miss you. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Boyfriend?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Jealous? Don’t worry about it. He knows what I do on here, he’s supportive. </em>
</p>
<p>Keith scoffs and pulls a face, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He<em> wasn’t </em>jealous. He didn’t even know who Leandro was, only that he had a very attractive body and a cute bubbly personality that made him extraordinarily easy to talk to… it wasn’t like Keith had a crush on him, alright? He couldn’t. He didn’t even know what the guy looked like. He didn’t know where he lived, what he did for a living, what his interests were. </p>
<p>It wasn’t anything real between them, it was customer and supplier. Leandro was nice to him because it paid Leandro to be nice to him, it was as simple as that. Anything that could be mistaken as kindness, fondness, or flirting… it was all part of the act, part of what Keith was paying for. It was an illusion for desperate and lonely people who couldn’t find that affection anywhere else.</p>
<p>… So, Keith.</p>
<p>He hadn’t been on a date in years, since the days of working backshift at a gas station. And even then, they’d been less dates, and more shameless hook-ups to relieve tension when he was particularly pent-up and frustrated with his life. He’d never really had a proper boyfriend, or even an improper one that messaged him for longer than it took to get in his pants. He really enjoyed having Leandro in his life, for reasons that weren’t entirely just sexual. </p>
<p>Of course, they didn’t much talk about things that weren’t sexual. Almost always their conversations were straight to the point, with the occasional wayward thought in the hazy period after they’d both came so hard they’d seen stars. </p>
<p>That didn’t mean Keith didn’t<em> want </em>more, though. He just wasn’t sure how to go about asking for it. He could still vividly remember the crawling shame when he’d asked for Leandro to show his face and had been brutally rejected for it. He understood why, but now he couldn’t help but second guess what else he was allowed to know about Leandro. Maybe he wasn’t meant to know anything, that was just the nature of their arrangement and always would be.</p>
<p>Whatever, if that was how things had to be, he’d simply take what he could get.</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Subscription service, huh? Sure. I’m in. How much?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: PS: I’m fine. Just super busy with work.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: I see how it is. Working hard to afford me, daddy? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Fuck. Pretty sure every kink I have I’ve discovered through you. Cut it out, I’m at work.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Well, maybe this will help you work harder. </em>
</p>
<p>The picture steals the breath from Keith’s lungs, catching him completely off guard. Leandro is wearing lace, the dainty baby blue fabric leaving very little to the imagination where it’s stretched around his hard cock. It’s too small, barely covers the essential parts of him. It looks like his cock would fall out from beneath it at the slightest movement.</p>
<p>But more noticeable than that, he’s wearing something that Keith has never seen him before. The tiny bralette clings to his pecs obscenely, clearly not made for a broad-shouldered man, and Leandro clearly not caring in the slightest. His nipples are pebbled and hard beneath the thin fabric, visible through the lace. </p>
<p>Keith curses, and almost as if on cue, another photo arrives. This time Leandro is on his hands and knees with his ass to the camera, the thick curves of his hips framed by that same pretty shade of blue. His ass cheeks are spilling out from the thin fabric where it’s biting into his skin, leaving harsh indents in tan flesh. Keith licks his lips, wishes for all he has that he could get his hands on Leandro, feel the soft give of that pretty ass beneath his palms.</p>
<p>It’s been a while since they’ve done something like this, and it’s a rare instance where Leandro initiates it unprompted and unpaid. Keith smirks to himself, reaches down to readjust himself as he wanders toward the bathroom in the back corner of the business. </p>
<p>He wonders if anyone else gets special treatment like this, pictures before payment. He likes to think that he’s one of Leandro’s longest customers, and his favorites. Sometimes though, sometimes it’s nice to have the confirmation of it.</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: is this part of the subscription service?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Nope. This one’s just for you, Red. I’ve been thinkin’ bout you. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Did you take this right now?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Mm. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: You’re really gonna make me get off in a fucking cubicle bathroom that smells like bleach?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Come on, don’t make me wait for it. You want money or something? Get back here and send me more. I’m all worked up now.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Aw, poor baby. Did I get you all hot and bothered at work? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: You know I got fired from a job once for looking at your nudes. </b>
</p>
<p>Keith is smiling stupidly at his phone as he sits down on the toilet seat, sheepishly unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down the front of his thighs. He’s already half hard in his boxers, the outline incriminating where it strains against thin red fabric. He rubs his palm over his hardening cock, gasping under his breath. </p>
<p>He really didn’t learn his lesson at all last time, did he? At least this time he has the decency to do it behind a locked door after business hours. Still, he’s pretty sure this would be quick grounds for unemployment if anyone knew what he was doing here.</p>
<p>Leandro sends him more photos then and Keith gives in to temptation, pulls himself out of his boxers and starts to work himself to full hardness. He’s gone this far, he might as well give in to that depraved part of himself and get off to this.</p>
<p>It’s very clear that <em> Leandro </em> is as well, the photos documenting it nicely. He pushes the underwear down below his balls but doesn’t take them off fully, keeping them there as he jerks himself off in the rest of the photos.</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Fuck.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Clearly nothing’s changed. Still just as horny for me as you were before. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Idk, I’d say something’s changed. You messaged me first this time and we’re practically sexting. That’s progress.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Pfft. You think this is sexting? I’ll show you sexting. </em>
</p>
<p>Keith’s not sure he can handle anything more than this, as he spits into his hand and starts to get himself off like a hasty teenager in fear of getting caught. He’s never been the most patient person alive, but usually he gives himself more time than this to get so worked up. There’s no build-up here, his hand moving rapidly over his cock, paying special attention to where he’s most sensitive. He knows how to hurry this along, he’s done it enough times by now.</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: I don’t know what I’d do with you first. A part of me has been wanting you so long I think I’d just push you down on the bed and climb into your lap, bounce on your cock and let you fuck me just like that. I know how you hate to be teased, impatient bastard, you’d probably hate to let me take control and use your cock however I see fit. I’d treat you like a toy, make myself come ten times over before I’d let you finish. If you asked really nicely, I might even let you come inside. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: But… maybe I’d make you work for it a little more and get you to eat me out first. What do you think of that, hm? I’d get on my hands and knees just like that picture, pull my pretty panties to the side and let you taste me. You’d feel how tight and hot I am around your tongue and beg me to let you fuck me for real.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: whaddaya say, daddy?  </em>
</p>
<p>Keith shudders, losing himself in the fantasy of being there with Leandro. He can’t lie, it all sounds equally appealing, any chance to finally get his hands on that beautiful body he’s been admiring for so long. He’d let Leandro do anything he fucking wanted to him, would do anything to make him feel good.</p>
<p>It’s embarrassing how quickly he comes all over himself after that, barely managing to cup his palm over the head of his cock in time to catch his mess. He groans through it, head tipped back as he gasps for air, pleasure wracking his frame so hard that it leaves his legs trembling for a minute afterward.</p>
<p>It isn’t long before Leandro gets impatient though, starts messaging him again.</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: You know you’re supposed to say something sexy back, right? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Can’t talk rn. You killed me. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: At least show me then! </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: pretty please, daddy? I’ve been such a good boy, haven’t I? </em>
</p>
<p>The thing is, Keith normally wouldn’t hesitate to entertain it. It’s not often that Leandro asks for pics in return and Keith can’t deny the way it strokes his ego, knowing that Leandro desires him too. He’s always careful, especially now that he has a following online and doesn’t want to be found out. He keeps all of his tattoos out of frame, except for that one on the apex of his inner thigh that no one has ever seen but Leandro and the occasional sex partner. It’s their secret.</p>
<p>Lately, Keith’s been busy though, and it’s been a few months since the last one, and to be completely honest… Keith has other reasons for hesitating now. Sure, Leandro has seen his dick before and has always been a fan, but there’s been some noticeable changes since then. Well… one change. One very noticeable change. One very controversial change that he’s not sure how Leandro will feel about.</p>
<p>As he thinks about it, he uses his clean hand to pull his phone back and angle it just right, other hand still gripping his cock and thumb settling just at the head. He hadn’t given it any attention while he was getting off and now it has him hissing in oversensitivity to touch himself where he’s most sensitive, but he’s going to do this and show Leandro, then he wants to make sure he shows it off well.</p>
<p>The glint of metal stands out even in the mess of cum cooling against his cockhead.</p>
<p>It’d been a little over two months now since he got it done, and he’d recently been given the okay to have the jewelry switched out to a smaller, more discreet barbel. In all honesty, it was as much Acxa’s idea as it was his own. Their resident piercer in the shop, Acxa had been idly chatting about a Prince Albert she’d done for a client recently and the conversation had simply caught Keith’s attention. He wasn’t sure what drew him to the idea, the adrenaline of it, just a sick curiosity for what it would feel like, but it wasn’t long before Acxa took notice of his intrigue and started gently egging him on.</p>
<p>And, well, Keith couldn’t think of a reason<em> not to </em>? </p>
<p>He snaps the picture, feels himself blushing as he hastily types out a caption and hopes for a positive reaction. He hadn’t gotten the piercing for anyone but himself, and he certainly wouldn’t let anyone else’s opinion on it change his mind, he was actually quite enjoying having it and loved the way it looked... but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Leandro to like it. He hadn’t exactly had the chance to show it to anyone other than Acxa since getting it.</p>
<p>It looks good right now, his cock still hard against his palm, cum covering his pale skin.</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Look what you do to me, baby.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: holy shit. Don’t thijnk i’ve ever came os hard in my life. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: is that a fucking dick piercing? I think you just gave me a new kink. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: you’re so hot, i’m gonna cry. How am i supposed to go back to fucking my boyfriend when your cock is just out there, looking like that?! Unfair. Mean. cruel.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: fuck. Imagine sucking it. Obviously donm’t actually imagine that because you’d be sucking your own cock. What im saying is holy shit i want you to fuck my throat until i choke on it, thanks. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Lol. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: It’s not funny! I’m serious! Name a time and place, I’ll be on my knees for you before you can ask. You won’t even have to pay me for it. Volunteer work. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: It’s been nice talking to you, Leandro, but I’ve gotta go for now. I look forward to the subscription service. Thanks for thinking of me.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Playing hard to get, huh? I see how it is.  </em>
</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Keith gives a long suffering sigh, pressing his forehead to the glass of the window harder. They’re in a nice neighborhood, where all the houses are duplexes that look the same, varying only in color. It seems like every driveway has the same crossover parked on the pavement, the same unnaturally green grass, and the same matching couple’s lawn chairs. It’s giving Keith a headache, the amount of deja vu every time they pass another house that fits the pattern.</p>
<p>Casting a sideways glance toward where Shiro sits behind the wheel, gauging his reaction… Keith props his dirty boots up on the dashboard and sighs again. Louder.</p>
<p>“<em> Keith </em>.”</p>
<p>“<em> Shiro </em>.” Keith repeats, mocking his older brother with that same bored scolding tone. Shiro’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, his jaw clenching in annoyance. A smile graces Keith’s features for the first time the entire evening, a wicked little expression as he presses his luck even further and reaches over to grab Shiro’s phone off the seat between them. Shiro gives a growl of a noise, but doesn’t look away from the road and attempt to stop him.</p>
<p>So Keith sits back, snoops through his messages with smugness radiating off of him. It’s quick to fade though, when he realizes there’s nothing juicy and worthy of blackmail there. Shiro only talks to like three people since moving out here. Adam, Keith, and… <em> Hunk </em>. </p>
<p>Keith sighs again, reminded of where they’re going.</p>
<p>“Alright! Fine! You wanna fight about it, let’s fight.” Shiro snaps suddenly, slamming his hands against the wheel. He reaches over, snatches his phone from Keith’s flimsy grip. Keith doesn’t even fight it, too shocked by the sudden outburst to react in time. “I’m so sorry I asked you to socialize! Remind me to never fucking invite you anywhere again if you’re gonna throw a tantrum the whole time.” </p>
<p>“I’m not throwing a tantrum and it wasn’t an invite. It was mandatory attendance.” Keith reminds him cooly, flipping his hair over his shoulder and leaning back against the seat. Sulking.</p>
<p>“Yeah, because I’d <em> like </em>to include you in my life, considering you’re one of the most important people in it. Next time I’ll leave you to your own devices and you can curl up all alone at home for the rest of your life. If that’s what you want, I’ll let you be one of those old guys that die alone and no one comes to check on them for days and their dog eats their corpse.” </p>
<p>“Harsh.” Keith can’t help it, his scowl falters. Before he can stop it, he catches himself chuckling under his breath at the sheer passion of Shiro’s anger. Keith’s quiet laughter must be contagious, because it has the stress lines on Shiro’s face disappearing just as fast. Keith shakes his head, shoulders slumping in defeat. He doesn’t really want to fight about it anyway. “For the record, Kosmo would never.”</p>
<p>“That dog’s the most food-oriented creature I’ve ever met, you’d better believe he would. You’d barely be an appetizer with the way he’s growing.” Shiro scoffs, rolling his eyes in that way he does whenever Kosmo comes up in conversation. It’s fond though, he can’t hide that he cares for the newest addition to their little mismatched family near as much as Keith does. “You had to pick the wolfdog, didn’t you? I still don’t know why you didn’t get a beagle or something.”</p>
<p>“Because… Kosmo’s a lot of work, he already had three strikes on his record, and a dog of that size in a city like this is a recipe for disaster. Who else would have adopted him?”</p>
<p>“You’re a proper bleeding-heart, Keith Kogane.”</p>
<p>“You know, I bet people told you that when you took me under your wing too.” Keith calls him out easily, his tone completely casual. It still garners the same reaction from Shiro it always does when Keith says something remotely sentimental though, his gaze flickering in Keith’s direction with wide emotional eyes that look just a tad wetter than moments before. Shiro’s a big old softie.</p>
<p>Keith exploits it at this point. Maybe in the beginning he’d been terrified to talk emotions, to admit that Shiro meant anything to him in fear that he would lose what they had. But they’ve known each other long enough now, Keith knows he’s not getting rid of Shiro as easily as saying the wrong thing or being too much for him to handle. He’s stuck with him now, like it or not.</p>
<p>“So, what’s actually going on here?”</p>
<p>“Whatever do you mean?”</p>
<p>“You nervous or something?” Shiro asks, ignoring Keith’s oblivious act. </p>
<p>“I’m not nervous.” Keith denies with a grunt, crossing his arms over his chest and sinking down lower in his seat. Shiro looks disbelieving to say the least. “I just hate parties. You know this.”</p>
<p>“It’s <em> Hunk’s </em>birthday. I know you’ve never met him, but trust me. The guy’s the biggest sweetheart in the world. He goes to sleep at 7pm, he tucks his cat into bed every night, he volunteers at the soup kitchen to make food for homeless people. I mean, look at this neighborhood.” </p>
<p>“Oh, trust me, I’m looking.” Keith glances back out the window, confirms that they’re still in that same family-oriented picture-perfect neighborhood. He then looks down at himself, covered in tattoos and piercings, wearing a leather jacket and combat boots. Yeah, he’s never met Hunk, but he’s pretty sure he already knows how Hunk is going to feel about him if he lives in a place like this. </p>
<p>“Keith, he’s my boss, and my favorite coworker. I’m not asking you for much. I literally moved across the country for you. You may be able to survive in an unfamiliar place with no friends whatsoever, but not me. I need people in my life other than you and Adam, or I will slowly succumb to insanity.”</p>
<p>“And I understand that, by why do you have to drag me down with you?”</p>
<p>“There will be like ten people there max, you’ll know all of them within ten minutes and then the introduction part will be over. It’ll probably be like those middle-aged mom pyramid scheme parties that you see advertised on Facebook, where they sell tupperware or expensive pans and-”</p>
<p>Silence falls over the entire vehicle.</p>
<p>In the same instance Shiro’s smile falls, Keith’s makes a surprise guest appearance.</p>
<p>He decides to finish Shiro’s sentence for him, with the help of the information presented to them.</p>
<p>“And do keg stands on the lawn?” Keith grins something devilish, looking at the crowd of drunken people partying on the lawn of one of those magazine cut-out homes. He sits up in his seat, leans forward to get a good look at the crowd they’re approaching. Shiro looks just as alert, looking closely like he’s skeptical this is actually their destination. He seems to accept it when he sees the house number, pulling over to park alongside the sidewalk. </p>
<p>He turns the car off. Sighs heavily. Keith is already smirking in his direction when Shiro turns to him.</p>
<p>“Look, if anything you’re gonna like this kind of party more so fuck off. Go get drunk, asshole. Make yourself more tolerable.” Shiro reaches over, places a hand bodily over Keith’s entire face and shoves him toward the door on his side of the truck. Keith laughs, weakly swatting his brother away, thoroughly amused by the turn of events the night has taken.</p>
<p>“I love you too.” Keith singsongs when Shiro finally lets him go. He earns an indifferent grunt in response, as Shiro grabbed the humble gift basket he’d brought, under the impression that this was a very different kind of birthday party. Keith can’t wipe the smile from his lips no matter how he tries.</p>
<p>They only make it about halfway up the path before they’re interrupted with a shout.</p>
<p>“Shiro! You made it!” The man that shoves his way out of the crowd vaguely resembles the description that Keith had been given of Hunk. He’s got kind eyes, a wide smile, and arms that draw Shiro into a hug that looks utterly bone-crushing even for a man as muscular as him. Keith takes a step backward and kicks at the manicured grass beneath his feet, hopes that there isn’t a hug lined up for him as well.</p>
<p>“Hunk! Happy birthday! This is quite the party, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Oh, trust me, this was all a surprise. I would’ve warned you if I’d known.”</p>
<p>“No worries, as long as you’re enjoying yourself.”</p>
<p>“Definitely. It’s one way to celebrate thirty, that’s for sure.”</p>
<p>“Geez, I wish my thirtieth birthday had been like this. Keith woke me up with a faceful of coconut cream pie… and I’m allergic to coconut.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t know that, in my defense!” Keith interjects, from where he’d been happily eavesdropping and observing the entire exchange. He hadn’t meant to speak up, had been perfectly happy blending into the shadows and learning as much as he could about this person before he attempted to interact. As it is, it seems like he’s dug his own grave, as Hunk and Shiro turn to look at him in unison.</p>
<p>“Ah, this must be Keith.” </p>
<p>“The one and only.” Shiro confirms with a nod, looking as proud as he always is when he finds someone new to introduce Keith to, like a prized show dog or a neat parlor trick. Keith glares at Shiro something fierce as he drapes an arm around Keith’s shoulders, pulling him into his side in a hug. “The bane of my existence, my waking nightmare, the cause of all my grey hairs… my little baby brother.”</p>
<p>Keith resents the entire introduction, despite it being entirely true.</p>
<p>He drives his elbow into Shiro’s gut and watches him crumple forward, easily ducking out of his hold at the very first opportunity to do so. He straightens up and fixes the collar of his jacket, side-eyeing Shiro as if daring him to try it again. Shiro glares back.</p>
<p>“Don’t touch me.” </p>
<p>“Don’t let the tough guy act or the tattoos fool you, he once cried until he got a bloody nose over a documentary on the hippopotamus poaching industry.” Shiro stage-whispers to Hunk from behind his hand, not at all discreet. Keith glares even harsher, though he can feel his cheeks heating up in familiar embarrassment. Damn Shiro for telling everyone about that, he’d promised never to speak a word of it to anyone. The bloody nose had nothing to do with the crying, it was a dry summer’s day and Keith just had bad luck for those things!</p>
<p>“Shut-up.” Keith snarls at him. It’s only when he catches a glimpse of Hunk’s startled expression that Keith remembers where he is, that he’s supposed to be making a good first impression. Whether the party looks tolerable or not, this is still the type of guy who willingly chose to live in a neighborhood with “kids at play” outside of every single house. Keith has no doubt in his mind that he’s being judged heavily on his alternative appearance right now, anything else he does is just icing on top of an already crumbling cake. </p>
<p>So, swallowing his pride, Keith extends a hand in Hunk’s direction for a shake. “Hi. I’m Keith.”</p>
<p>Surprisingly, Hunk doesn’t hesitate to grab his hand and give it a hearty shake, collecting himself in an instant and going back to that annoyingly-wide smile.</p>
<p>“It’s an honor to meet you.” He says, still gripping Keith’s hand a good fifteen seconds later. Keith nods, eyebrows raised as he looks down at their grip and wonders when he should make the first move to pull away, if it’ll just go on forever if he doesn’t. He must be burning holes in Hunk’s hand with his stare, as he pulls away as if on cue. “Shiro speaks the world of you and your work.”</p>
<p>“Does he?” Keith prompts, his embarrassment only growing. Unfortunately, he can’t even glare in Shiro’s direction, as he’s already wandered off to talk to someone who must be another coworker. Damn him. Leaving Keith alone in this awkward interaction.</p>
<p>“Yeah, he sure does.” Hunk beams happily, tucking his hands into his pocket. Keith nods, still searching for a polite way to duck out of this conversation and go in search of his brother, or booze, whichever he happens to find first. There are so many people here, they keep brushing up against his back every other second. “You know, I’m tentatively in the market for some tattoos myself. I’ve been thinking about it for a long while, I have the designs picked out, but I’ve never been tattooed before and I’m not sure what to expect really. I thought about reaching out to you but saw you were booked pretty well solid.”</p>
<p>Keith pauses. The panic that’d been a suffocating lump in his throat shrinks into something manageable and he swallows it down, confidence growing at the familiar topic. Now this, this he can handle. He talks to potential customers every day, it’s transactional, easy. This is the one social interaction he knows.</p>
<p>Besides, there’s a palpable relief in knowing that Hunk isn’t judging him for his appearance, is actually admiring the art for what it is.</p>
<p>“Oh… thank-you. I’m really honored you’d consider me to do the work for you.” </p>
<p>“Are you kidding? Your page is super impressive. I can’t think of anyone who could do a better job on what I’m looking for. It’s just a matter of me working up the nerves to get it done.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as you’re probably thinking it will.”</p>
<p>“No kidding.” Hunk looks thoughtful, as he scratches at the short stubble on his chin. “I’d love to get the work done by someone I know, feels like it’d be a little less anxiety-inducing that way. That way if I decide to tap out after the first jab of the needle, I know I won’t be judged too harshly.” </p>
<p>“I can give you my card if you’re interested?” Keith suggests warmly, already digging his wallet out of his back pocket. He really is honored. He works alongside some of the best artists in the world, as far as he’s concerned, so it always seems baffling when someone compliments his work in specific. He doesn’t really feel deserving of all the attention yet, but at least online he can turn off his phone and look away, being complimented and recognized in public is another story entirely.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’d love that.” Hunk grins, accepting the card being offered to him. Keith stands by as he reads over the text there, familiarizing himself with it. He starts to smile then, pocketing the card and giving Keith a clap on the shoulder. “Well, thanks again for entertaining me. You might be expecting a call from me soon about an appointment. It’s been nice meeting you finally.”</p>
<p>“You too.” Keith says, and finds that he’s telling the truth. Maybe, though he’ll never admit it aloud, it’s a good thing that Shiro dragged him out here and gave him a chance to make new connections. “Oh, and happy birthday, by the way.”</p>
<p>“Thanks!” Hunk says, but he seems distracted. He keeps looking up, high above his head, and Keith follows his line of sight to where a man is leaning over the railing of the second-story balcony. Keith’s eyes widen in surprise and he immediately starts to follow Hunk through the crowd, to stand beneath where the man is standing. He’s not sure he could catch a full-grown man falling from that distance, but he wants to be here to help just in case things go south.</p>
<p>“Lance! Get down your skinny little ass down from that fucking balcony or so help me god I will call your mother!” Hunk shouts up at him, so loud in Keith’s ear that he jumps in shock. For how kind Hunk had seemed, he certainly has a voice on him, and the mouth of a sailor too. Keith has to bite down on his tongue to stifle his laughter.</p>
<p>“Hunk! You’ve gotta see the view from up here. I think I see the Hollywood sign!” The drunken man calls down to him, entirely unaffected by the harsh tone Hunk had been threatening him with. Keith watches on in horror as the man shimmies along the railing, leaning over it a dangerous amount to peer straight down at Hunk, the wide toothy smile on his face visible from the ground.</p>
<p>Hunk curses under his breath, turns to Keith and gives a helpless shrug of his shoulders.</p>
<p>“One second, I have to tend to my drunken idiot.” And with that, he disappears into the house in a jog, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. Keith, completely lost as to what to do, stands exactly where he is and stares up at the drunken man. Just in case, he doesn’t want to leave before he’s sure the guy isn’t gonna take a dive twenty feet or so to the ground. </p>
<p>Thankfully, Hunk busts through the doors behind the guy and drags him back into the safety of the house, his chastising audible even over the music and the chatter of partygoers. Keith breathes a sigh of relief, shaking his head to try and release some of the panic there. His heart is still racing. Whoever that idiot is, he certainly can’t handle his liquor and shouldn’t be permitted to be wandering around.</p>
<p>The party is tolerable, for the most part. Keith meets back up with Shiro for an hour or so and gets dragged around from person to person while Shiro socializes. But that comes to an end fast when Adam arrives and tipsy Shiro clings to him like a stray kitten. Keith can only stand by and watch Shiro attempt to grind on his flustered sober husband for so long before the cringe of it all has him disappearing into the kitchen. There, he restocks the red solo cup Shiro had delivered him earlier, and retires himself to a quiet window seat in the back corner of the kitchen.</p>
<p>It’s nice. Peaceful. Everyone that wanders into the kitchen is there with a goal in mind, so they grab their drinks or their food and then leave, no one bothering to take notice of Keith.</p>
<p>Keith is just starting to feel tipsy and bored enough to go in search of Shiro again… when the peace is abruptly shattered into a thousand pieces. He hears the approaching chaos before it arrives, the very vocal complaints of a drunken man with a whiny, grating voice. Keith pulls a face, turns just in time to watch Hunk walk through the door, hauling the balcony boy behind him.</p>
<p>Where he’d been poised to dart and find another quiet corner, Keith hesitates.</p>
<p>Curiosity killed the cat and now it’s getting the better of Keith too. The guy that Hunk is dragging along by the wrist is certainly the same drunken idiot from before, but now that he’s closer Keith can’t deny that he’s infuriatingly… cute. He’s loud, and obnoxious, and sounds like the kind of guy that Keith would most certainly hate… but he’s fucking <em> cute </em>.</p>
<p>With tan skin and bright attentive blue eyes, pouty pink lips that are flying at a hundred miles per second, chestnut brown hair tousled just so atop his head. He looks like the preppy wannabe jock guys that used to bully Keith in school, the track and field type of guy. He’s tall and skinny, all lean muscle and wide shoulders. Scratch the track and field thing, maybe a swimmer.</p>
<p>And listen, Keith isn’t desperate. He can handle a cute guy being in close proximity to him and keep his head about him. It’s just harder to do that when he’s just south of drunk enough to think with his dick instead of his brain, and the cute guy in question is wearing a fucking crop top and<em> booty shorts </em>.</p>
<p>From across the room, Keith watches as Hunk manhandles the cute guy onto one of the breakfast bar stools, swatting away his grabby hands when he attempts to cling on. He’s apparently very easily amused by Hunk’s anger, giggling uncontrollably to the point that Hunk can’t even hold a scowl, a smile slipping through as he reluctantly joins in on the incessant laughter.</p>
<p>“<em> Jesus Christ </em> , would you <em> please </em> cooperate?!”</p>
<p>“No, you’re gonna make me drink like a gallon of water and I’m not<em> thirssssty </em>.”</p>
<p>“You’re gonna thank me tomorrow, Lance, trust me.”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t want-” The cute guy, Lance, cuts himself off mid-whine when he whips his head to the side and his eyes meet Keith’s from across the room. Keith feels his face heat up and he drops his gaze in an instant, staring angrily down at the half-empty cup in his hands and wondering what the hell he was thinking being so blatantly obvious in his ogling. Nothing’s going to come of it, he doesn’t even want anything to come of it, this guy doesn’t seem like someone he would click with and- “Oh my god. Hunk!”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Okay, don’t look now, be discreet about it,” Lance breathes the words half under his breath, like he’s attempting to whisper but failing miserably with the way the alcohol has him underestimating the volume of his voice. He’s slurring his words slightly, interrupting himself with more giggles. “but there’s a really fucking hot guy sitting in your kitchen. I think it’s love at first sight.”</p>
<p>For a traitorous few seconds, something ugly rears itself in Keith’s chest and he wonders who just walked into the kitchen and stole Lance’s attention so thoroughly. But when he risks a sneaky glance up, it confirms that it’s still just the three of them in the room, and now Hunk is looking his way too with a sheepish sort-of smile. Keith practically crumples the plastic cup with how hastily he brings it to his lips, downing the last half of his drink all at once.</p>
<p>This can’t be happening. When was the last time a cute guy actually thought he was attractive back? Uh, never? At least none as cute as <em> this </em>guy is. Keith is completely out of his comfort zone here. He doesn’t flirt at parties, he doesn’t flirt anywhere. The few romantic or sexual flings he’s had have been born of dating apps, where he can be straight to the point about what he wants. He’s not used to this grey area, the unknown of knowing they both want each other but being lost how to bridge the gap.</p>
<p>“Lance, I’m pretty sure he can <em> hear </em> you.”</p>
<p>“Good. Let him. Maybe he’ll take the hint and come introduce himself.” Lance snarks, not a hint of shame present in his voice. Keith has to bite the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood in order to keep from letting his amusement show on his face. This guy is so very far from his type, and yet...</p>
<p>“I don’t really think-”</p>
<p>“What? Don’t think he can handle me?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think he likes <em> guys </em>, Lance.” Hunk hisses at him under his breath. He’s far quieter than Lance, quiet enough that Keith has to strain and really concentrate to hear him over the distant thud of bass in the room over. Hunk sounds embarrassed to be talking about it at all. </p>
<p>As it is, Keith is left wondering if he heard wrong. Of all the things Shiro has told this guy, he forgets to mention the whole Keith being into dick thing? Normally, Keith would be telling Shiro to stay out of his business, but right about now he’s wishing that his brother had gossipped about him at work a hell of a lot more. He can’t possibly think of a more inconvenient time to be mistaken as straight as right this second, when someone as attractive as<em> that </em> is asking about him.</p>
<p>Keith has to use all his strength to keep from giving in and looking in their direction. Instead, he holds his breath, tapping his fingertips against the window sill as he waits for Lance’s inevitable audible reaction to the false news. Finally, a bubbly little giggle fills the room, not at all deterred. Keith’s shoulders sag with relief before he can reign the reaction in.</p>
<p>“Well then, he hasn’t met <em> me </em> yet.” Lance is way too cocky for his own good, but just this once it doesn’t feel like a bad thing. “Hey! Tall, dark, and handsome, you gonna scowl at your empty cup all night or come say hello? I know you want to. You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are.”</p>
<p>Shit.</p>
<p>“Lance!” Hunk hisses out, followed by a slap that Keith can only guess is a hand against Lance’s arm. It brings a smile to his face and before he can talk himself out of it, he’s getting to his feet and crossing the room with his eyes set on the prize. Lance holds his gaze the entire time, blue eyes dark with intent, the smirk on his face something wicked and all too pleased with himself. Damn.</p>
<p>Keith leans against the counter beside them, making a show of grabbing one of the drinks as if that was his reason for coming over here. Hunk looks properly shocked, but Lance just looks amused, like he expected this outcome the entire time. He pats the stool next to him wordlessly and Keith sits down, hopes he isn’t coming across as too easy.</p>
<p>“Hey.” Keith says, to no one in particular. He probably should look up at at least one of them, but his attention has been thoroughly hoarded by the tan skin of Lance’s legs where they’re straddling either side of his seat. Completely hairless, smooth and shining in the low lighting of the room. Keith feels warm all over, can’t deny that he longs to touch. </p>
<p>“Um. Hello again.” He hears Hunk say, very plainly confused. Reluctantly, Keith tears his gaze away from Lance and looks up at Shiro’s friend, flashes a smile that feigns innocence. The act is a little bit harder to believe when Lance is sitting between them, giggling at the entire exchange, settling a heavy hand on Keith’s thigh and simply leaving it there. Casual. Distracting. “Where’s Shiro?”</p>
<p>It takes Keith a moment to realize he’s being spoken to. Fuck, those last couple drinks must be hitting him late, he feels fuzzy and warm all over and he’s pretty sure only half of it can be blamed on the bubbly ball of sunshine next to him.</p>
<p>“Adam arrived and he completely ditched me. Typical.” Keith explains, shifting slightly to lean back against the counter, spreading his legs a little wider. Then, as indifferently as he can possibly manage, Keith nods his head toward the presence between the two of them. “Who’s your friend, Hunk?”</p>
<p>Alright, maybe he is coming across as easy. He doesn’t really care anymore. At least no one will think he’s straight anymore, so there’s that.</p>
<p>“This? This is Lance.” Hunk explains, reaching over to grip Lance’s jaw and turn it in his direction. He needn’t bother, Lance’s attention was headed back there anyway if the mirth in his eyes is anything to go by. He’s positively shining as he addresses Keith with a wink. “Proud planner of this here party.”</p>
<p>“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His voice is sickeningly sweet, shy in a way that Keith knows damn well he isn’t. Still, Keith is a weak, weak man and damn if it doesn’t have him leaning subconsciously closer as he answers. The air between them feels hotter than everywhere else, scorching the closer Keith gets.</p>
<p>“Trust me, the pleasure’s all mine.”</p>
<p>“Um, okay, well…” Hunk coughs loudly, tries and fails to break whatever moment they’re having. In the end, he gives a sort of defeated disgruntled noise, throwing his hands up into the air indifferently. It’s clear he’s given up on trying to keep a handle on Lance for the night. “Keith, I’m so sorry to have to do this to you, but can you watch him for just a second? He’s harmless, he’s a danger to himself and no one else. I just don’t want him drowning in the pool or going skydiving off a balcony. And, well, he seems pretty attached to you.” </p>
<p>That’s enough to break the spell Keith’s under, the responsibility settling heavy on his shoulders.</p>
<p>“I’ve been drinking too, I don’t know if I’m the best option-”</p>
<p>“I know you’ve been drinking, but at the very least I know he’s not going to be running off to his doom when the alternative is staying here with you.” Hunk explains, forcing a glass of water into Lance’s hand and looking genuinely surprised when the boy lifts it to his lips without complaint. It’s clear why when seconds later drops of water spill clumsily from the corner of his mouth, streaking down his jaw and following the line of his throat. Keith’s eyes track the movement like predator to prey. And damn if Lance doesn’t notice it.</p>
<p>“If you’re sure about this…” </p>
<p>“It’ll only be a couple minutes. I swear. Pidge was supposed to be his ride home, but I haven’t seen them in hours so I have reason to suspect that I should be babysitting the both of them and preparing a couple guest bedrooms. Once I find Pidge, I’ll circle back and grab Lance from you, and you won’t have to worry about it again tonight. Please?”</p>
<p>“Sure. I’ll keep an eye on him.” Keith says, even as his mind tells him what a terrible idea it is, even as his heart races in his chest at the prospect of being alone with someone this attractive. It seems to be the right thing to say though, because Lance’s hand that’s still settled on his thigh gives it a little squeeze, just a tease of what could be so much more. </p>
<p>“Thank-you. I owe you one.” Hunk seems completely sincere, suiting Keith with a genuine wide smile, friendly in nature. Keith feels a little bit bad about his less than pure intentions here. He’s not going to let anything happen between them, especially not now that it’s his job to look out for Lance, but fuck if he isn’t thinking about it. Oh, he’s thinking<em> all </em> about it, vividly, all the ways it could play out. </p>
<p>“No worries.” </p>
<p>“Behave yourself, Lance.” </p>
<p>“You can count on me, scout’s honor.” Lance turns away from Keith for the first time since he sat down with them, seeing Hunk off with a mocking little salute. Hunk looks anything but convinced and he casts Keith an apologetic look, but he slinks out of the room all the same in search of his other friend.</p>
<p>Leaving them both… completely alone.</p>
<p>Keith gulps.</p>
<p>Lance doesn’t even hesitate to eliminate the minimal space between them, leaning into Keith’s side and wrapping around Keith’s arm. He tangles his leg with Keith’s, kicks his sneakers off and runs his bare foot along Keith’s calf. It has Keith squirming underneath him, trying and failing to stave off his arousal. </p>
<p>He’s practically in Keith’s lap, making himself comfortable like he belongs there even as a crowd of people comes charging into the room in search of drinks. They don’t even spare a second glance in Keith’s direction, leaving him completely at Lance’s mercy. Well, he can think of worse ways to go.</p>
<p>“So, cutie, how do you know Hunk?” Lance hums, resting his head on Keith’s shoulder. He’s staring avidly at Keith, completely invested in his answer. Keith feels lightheaded under all the attention.</p>
<p>“He works with my brother.”</p>
<p>“Mm, no wonder I’ve never seen you around before. I’d be <em> pissed </em> if I found out Hunk had known you for a while and failed to introduce us.” Lance explains, hitching his leg over Keith’s hip further and sliding fully into his lap, face-to-face. Unable to look anywhere else, Keith is forced to meet Lance’s heated gaze, feel the way it sets his entire body alight. </p>
<p>“Hahh, nope, this is my first time meeting him.”</p>
<p>“Good.” Lance mutters under his breath, apparently already distracted again. He leans back, rakes his gaze over Keith’s disheveled appearance, blatantly checking him out. Slowly, he reaches up and fixes the collar of Keith’s jacket, his fingertips lingering across the dip of his collarbones. A single fine eyebrow arches in question. “You’ve got a lot of tattoos.”</p>
<p>“Yep.”</p>
<p>“Can I see them?”</p>
<p>And, well, who’s Keith to deny this man literally<em> anything </em> he wants? Especially when what he wants is for Keith to start removing articles of clothing so he can admire his body, his art. Keith has never shrugged his leather jacket off faster, despite the minimal space he’s working with because Lance makes absolutely no effort to back off and give him room.</p>
<p>Soon enough, Keith is tossing his jacket aside, sitting there in a form-fitting black t-shirt. </p>
<p>“Knock yourself out.” Keith tells him, nodding his head to give the okay. Off like a bolt, Lance’s hands are on his skin, sliding gently over his arms and tracing the individual pieces of his sleeves. He looks reverent, appreciative in a way that Keith so rarely receives. He can’t help but bask under the attention, as gentle hands grip and caress his bicep. Fuck.</p>
<p>“I love tatted guys. They’re so sexy.” </p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Lance confirms, his fingers coming to a stop at the sleeve of Keith’s shirt and hesitating there. He doesn’t even have to ask before Keith is rolling his sleeves up further, giving him more to admire. And when he tires of that, Keith finds himself lifting the hem of his shirt, exposing his chest so Lance can get a look at his most recent tattoo, the detailed chest piece of a lion’s face. </p>
<p>It’s only when they’re sitting there, Keith’s right pec entirely engulfed by Lance’s hand, that Lance makes eye contact with him and thinks to do introductions. “Hey, what’s your name?”</p>
<p>“Keith.”</p>
<p>“I’m Lance.” He introduces himself, apparently drunk enough to not remember that this information has already been shared, whether intentionally or not. Keith just chuckles and nods, deciding to go along with it. He does make a point to lower his shirt again though, guilt gnawing when he’s reminded again of how much drunker than him Lance is. “Best friend of the birthday boy, I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”</p>
<p>“I have, he called you his drunken idiot.” </p>
<p>“Did he now? I’m gonna have to have a <em> word </em>with Hunk about how he introduces me to hot guys.”</p>
<p>“Actually, you introduced yourself by dancing around on a balcony, drunk as a skunk.”</p>
<p>“Ah, my bad.” Lance relents, holding his hands up defensively between them. It gets Keith laughing, low and hearty, wrenched out of him without his entire consent. Lance seems overjoyed by the reaction he’s earned though, like he’d made it a personal life mission to make Keith laugh so genuinely. “Alright, I’ve gotta ask. Where’d you come from to get such an attractive accent? I can’t get enough of it.”</p>
<p>“Texas, originally. Though, I’ve lived in so many States I think it’s kind of its own thing at this point.” </p>
<p>“Texas, huh?” Lance hums, leaning in close, practically resting their foreheads together. The proximity only makes it all the more obvious when Lance’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, inches from Keith’s own. The world around them is quickly forgotten, Keith’s full attention dedicated to the gorgeous man settled in his lap and draped over him. “Well, you know what they say.”</p>
<p>“What do they say?” Keith whispers, leaning an inch closer, unable to resist. Their lips just barely brush and he can feel it when Lance smiles in answer, happy that Keith is playing into his game.</p>
<p>“Save a horse, ride a<em> cowboy </em>.”</p>
<p>And with that terrible line, Lance captures his lips in a kiss.</p>
<p>What starts out as something innocent and chaste enough is quick to shift into white-knuckled and gasping desperation, struggling for breath as they both make a valiant effort not to be the first to pull away. Lance has his hands in Keith’s hair, fingers twined deep and tugging him closer by their grip, the rough treatment turning him on more than it has any right to. It doesn’t help that Lance is getting squirmy, constantly shifting and rocking down against him.</p>
<p>“Lance, we shouldn’t-” Keith manages to say between kisses, even as he keeps leaning back in for more, desperate for anything he can get. He grips Lance’s jaw hard, licks into his mouth and relishes the shivers that rack Lance’s frame every time his tongue piercing rubs against the roof of his mouth. </p>
<p>Eventually, when another group of people enter the room and give a series of wolf-whistles in their direction, Keith finds his self-control again and uses it to wrench Lance away from him. They’re both panting for breath, lips slick and red from use, eyes blown-out with lust. Fuck.</p>
<p>“We can’t do this.” Keith says plainly, leaving no room for argument.</p>
<p>“Seriously?” Lance suits him with an unimpressed look and Keith wants nothing more than to be someone irresponsible enough to go through with it anyway, consequences and morals be damned. He has never wanted anything as badly as he wants this to happen, but he also knows he can’t let it. It wouldn’t be right. And Lance must see how serious he is because his flirty expression fades away as the seconds pass, until he’s left sitting in Keith’s lap and frowning deeply. “Ugh, fine, have it your way.”</p>
<p>And with that, Lance slides out of his lap and turns on his heel.</p>
<p>It takes Keith a few seconds for his head to catch up with what’s happening. He blinks a few times, his gaze blurry and unfocused, and eventually finds himself staring at Lance’s retreating form. From this angle, he can see the bright bold letters printed across the ass of Lance’s shorts: <em> Only god can top me. </em></p>
<p>With each step he takes further away from Keith, his hips swing, his ass cheeks visibly jiggling with little to no support beneath the shorts. Keith licks his lips, thinks about how easy it would be to pull them to the side, fuck him without even having to take their clothes off-</p>
<p>Bad Keith. Bad.</p>
<p>“Hey, where are you going?” Keith calls after him, just as he turns the corner to head down a dark unlit hallway. Keith scrambles to his feet, forgetting his jacket on the floor, and trails helplessly after Lance further into the house. Lance doesn’t even turn around, just keeps weaving down the hall, effortlessly avoiding the couples making out and grinding on each other in the shadows.</p>
<p>Keith isn’t so lucky, knocking into a couple and tripping over a few misplaced feet on his way, before eventually catching up to Lance enough to grab his wrist and stop him. “Hunk told us to stay th-”</p>
<p>“Come on, don’t be such a hardass.” Lance suits him with a glare, an icy look totally opposite from the warm ones Keith has been receiving all night. It’s jarring, and more than a little intimidating, and Keith finds himself letting go of Lance immediately. “Look, you’re hot, but not <em> that </em> hot. I don’t take orders from <em> any </em> man.”</p>
<p>“I’m at least coming with you.”</p>
<p>“I can think of worse company.” Lance relents without any fight at all, and where Keith has dropped his hand, Lance reaches back down and threads their fingers together. He leads Keith by their interlocked hands, swinging them cheerily between their bodies all the way down the hallway. Then, he turns into a room on the right, bathed in darkness but barely bigger than a closet as far as Keith can tell.</p>
<p>“Where are we?”</p>
<p>“You’ll see.”</p>
<p>“Lance, if you’re trying to get me to hook up with you in a closet, I’m not-”</p>
<p>“Ta-da!” Lance yells, in the same instance the overhead light finally flickers on after Lance’s strenuous search for the switch. Keith hisses at the onslaught of bright fluorescent light, peering around the room through squinted eyes, taking in their surroundings. Somehow, the contents of the room being visible doesn’t answer any of his questions at all. He balks.</p>
<p>“What the-”</p>
<p>“Between you and me, Hunk has a frozen yogurt machine. It’s not one of those fancy built-into-the-wall kinds, it’s more like a glorified blender. But man! That bad boy makes some mean yogurt if you’re willing to put the extra effort into selecting the fresh fruit. It’s worth the work, I can tell you that much.” Lance chatters on conversationally, as he opens up the huge fridge and gathers some marked boxes from the freezer side. He sets them on one of the counters of the small room, opening a drawer to grab some measuring cups. </p>
<p>Keith watches on in complete stunned silence as Lance drunkenly stumbles around the room, gathering fruit until he’s got a good few cups of berries and bananas measured out. But then he grabs for what looks to be a very expensive, very large, very <em> sharp </em> knife to cut the apples… and Keith can’t watch any longer. He springs into action and takes the knife from Lance’s hand, getting to work chopping the apple for him before he even has time to complain. </p>
<p>“Are you serious? This is all you’re after? Yogurt?”</p>
<p>“You telling me you don’t like frozen yogurt, hotshot? You’re too much of a bad boy to enjoy a little fro-yo? Gurt not good enough for you?” Lance sneers, leaning into his side with his tongue stuck out in a juvenile display. When Keith doesn’t give him the liberty of a response, Lance grows bolder and leans further into his space, flicking Keith’s ear lobe with his tongue. </p>
<p>Wordlessly, Keith sets the knife down and turns to face him. Lance bats his eyelashes, clearly choosing the path of feigning innocence. After a long moment passes with Keith’s blank expression not faltering whatsoever, insecurity flashes across Lance’s own face and he seems to second-guess himself.</p>
<p>“You like guys, right? I’m not reading you wrong?”</p>
<p>There’s something about the uncertainty there, the blatant hopefulness, that’s far too adorable for Keith to ignore. He caves, pulling Lance closer and nodding toward the workspace for him to continue what he was doing. And, as soon as he does get back to work, Keith answers him.</p>
<p>“Sober guys, yeah.”</p>
<p>“Well, shit, make the rejection a little more blunt, why don’t you?” Lance grumbles under his breath, but it’s light and airy, teasing. Keith leans over the counter and idly watches Lance work, dumping the cups into a machine that Keith has never seen before in his life, but Lance seems intimately familiar with. </p>
<p>“What about you? Mr. Only-God-Can-Top-Me?”</p>
<p>“Oh, you noticed that, did you?” Lance muses, lips curling upward in a grinch-like grin. It goes unspoken, but not unaddressed, that Keith had to have been staring at his ass to notice in the first place. Whatever, Keith is willing to give up that tidbit of information in exchange for some of his own.</p>
<p>“Gay?”</p>
<p>“Bi.” Lance answers, making a show of lifting the pre-peeled banana to his lips and simply holding it there. The innuendo doesn’t go over Keith’s head, as much as he wishes it had. He rolls his eyes, snatching it from Lance’s hand and nearly crushing it between his fingers in his haste to toss it into the machine with the rest of the fruit. Lance is, entirely unbothered. “Girls, boys, everything in between or outside of the realm entirely. I’m just flexible like that, generous enough to share with anyone who wants a piece of me. Seems only fair that everyone gets a chance to experience, yeah?”</p>
<p>“Hm.”</p>
<p>“Why do you ask?” Lance turns on him in an instant, cornering him against the counter and framing his arms on either side of Keith’s body. Keith stands there sheepishly, making a valiant effort not to let his gaze drift down between their bodies, where he can feel Lance’s hips pressed to his. Those skimpy booty shorts might be the most stupidly attractive thing Keith has ever encountered, but they’re entirely impractical, and leave little to nothing to the imagination.</p>
<p>“Hunk’s probably worried about you, we should go back soon.” Keith suggests in a croak, tilting his head back to stare toward the ceiling, too weak to push Lance away now and miss their shared body heat. </p>
<p>“Nah, he probably thinks I convinced you to sleep with me.” Lance dismisses easily, hands settling on Keith’s belt and toying with it idly. Slowly, his fingers drift upward, slipping under the hem of Keith’s shirt again. Keith doesn’t protest as they push the fabric up, tracing his treasure trail up to his abs. He looks up through his lashes, gaze dark with longing. “Not many can resist my charm as well as you can, cowboy.”</p>
<p>Keith gives a strangled noise in the back of his throat, desperately tries to lighten the mood.</p>
<p>“Oh? Does the frozen yogurt thing work for you usually? Guys see your gurt and get on their knees?”</p>
<p>“Shut-up.” Lance snickers, quickly losing his composure and falling forward into Keith’s chest as he dissolves into laughter again. Now this, this Keith can handle, easier than that hell-sent lusty demon from before anyway. He wraps an arm around Lance’s middle, holds him close and lets him giggle himself out, swaying on his feet and needing the support. “I<em> told you </em>, this is just between you and me, you’re special. I can confidently say you’re the first guy I’ve ever snuck into Hunk’s pantry.”</p>
<p>“Oh?” Keith hums, heart stuttering at the press of Lance’s lips to his pulse point.</p>
<p>“Hunk’s bathroom? Nah, sorry, you’re a little late to that rodeo, I’ve seen more ass in there than the toilet seat has. Hunk’s bed? There were a couple times, once it was a threesome, but don’t tell Hunk because he doesn’t know about that. Hunk’s dining room table? Don’t even get me started, I had to pay him back like seven hundred to buy a new table and a hundred more for the emotional damages.”</p>
<p>“You’re fucking with me.”</p>
<p>“No, oh my god, I’m a total fucking slut.” Lance muses quietly, twirling a strand of Keith’s hair around his finger. He’s undoubtedly amused, clearly more than comfortable with the label. He straightens up slowly, all languid smooth movements, like a cat on the prowl. “Hunk didn’t tell you that?”</p>
<p>“I guess he didn’t find the chance to work it into conversation.”</p>
<p>“Damn, well, the more you know.” Lance tilts back, grips Keith’s face between his hands and strokes his thumb over the arch of his cheekbone. Keith relaxes slightly, lets his guard down and leans into the soft curve of Lance’s palm, eyelashes fluttering closed. He’s suddenly tired, like he could pass out right here and be perfectly content with it. “Are you judging me for it?”</p>
<p>The way Lance asks the question suggests he doesn’t actually care whether he’s being judged or not, that this is more a judgment on Keith’s character than anything else.</p>
<p>“Assuming it’s true, I’m a little impressed.” Keith admits honestly. “Seven hundred dollars… that’s gotta be solid hardwood, you must have been having some pretty intense sex to break it. Unless there’s some new position I haven’t heard of? The lumberjack? The wood-splitter? The chainsaw?”</p>
<p>Lance snorts, an honest to god snort, and then quickly his hands come up between them to clamp over his mouth in embarrassment. Keith can’t explain why, but it’s somehow the most attractive thing he’s done yet. It does all kinds of funny things to his head, makes it even harder to fight the pull of desire, to keep from kissing that ridiculous blush off his face.</p>
<p>“Are you always this funny or is it the alcohol?”</p>
<p>“Definitely the alcohol. I’m a fucking bore when I’m sober.”</p>
<p>“Oh, gross.” Lance sighs, exaggeratedly forlorn. “We wouldn’t get along then, I’m always this fun.”</p>
<p>“Are you?”</p>
<p>“Mmhm. Maybe we should make the most of the time we have, before sober you comes around to ruin our fun. This might be our only chance to make some bad decisions.”</p>
<p>“I’m not becoming your first pantry conquest, no way.” Keith scoffs, but there’s no bite to it. It’s obvious his resolve is weakening. He’s never really prided himself in his self-restraint at the best of times, much less when he’s half-drunk and cuddled up to the prettiest guy he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting in his young life. Can anyone really blame him if he were to give into temptation?  </p>
<p>“<em> Sigh </em>. Your loss.” Lance sighs wistfully to accompany the word, throwing an arm over his eyes and drifting back to the machine that’s now chiming it’s success. Keith watches curiously as he scoops the supposed frozen yogurt into bowls. He looks so cute there, lips pursed and eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, Keith can’t stop himself from encouraging him.</p>
<p>“You aren’t exactly hard on the eyes though, I’ll admit that.”</p>
<p>“Is that meant to be a compliment?” Lance doesn’t even look away from his food, as he spoons a bite past his lips. He waits until he swallows it down before continuing, flinging his spoon for emphasis as he speaks. “I mean, come on, not hard on the eyes? That’s the bare minimum of an accomplishment. You and I both know I am very, very, <em> very </em>easy on the eyes.”</p>
<p>“Easy in other ways too, I reckon.” Keith mutters under his breath, earning a playful shove.</p>
<p>“What are you<em> implying </em>, cowboy?” Lance sounds very comically scandalized, despite being a proudly self-proclaimed slut just moments before. Keith just grins at him, lazy and easy, and watches him eat through half a bowl of frozen yogurt. “Alright, since you so clearly need my help with this flirting thing, we’ll adlibs it, I’ll give you some better suggestions on ways to compliment me and you can take your pick. Handsome, beautiful, charming, alluring, tantalizing, tempting, bootylicious-”</p>
<p>“You’re ridiculous.”</p>
<p>“That wasn’t on the list, was it? I think you’re taking creative liberties here.” </p>
<p>“What can I say? I have such an inspiring muse.” Keith teases, pushing off from the wall and meeting Lance in the middle of the small room. He gets his hands on Lance’s thin hips in the same instant that grabby hands latch onto Keith’s shoulders, his fingers will leave bruises behind in their wake and Lance’s will leave scratch marks. Somehow, neither of them care about that right now, as they pull each other in and give in to what they’ve been fighting all night.</p>
<p>“Prepare to be inspired then.” Lance whispers against his lips, just before claiming them as his own with one quick peck. He doesn’t even get the chance to pull away to catch his breath before Keith is pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. He licks into Lance’s mouth and moans at the sweet taste of fruit, deciding that he could definitely get used to this. Lance trembles against his chest, hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to ground himself.</p>
<p>Eventually, as heavy and lumbering as they both are on their feet, Keith finds himself backing Lance up against the counter. He earns anything but a complaint, as he hoists the boy up with heavy hands finally settled on that pretty round ass, gripping at each cheek before setting Lance down on the edge. His legs wrap around Keith’s hips and pull him back in against Lance’s body, making sure he can feel where Lance’s cock is filling out between them.</p>
<p>Experimentally, Keith rolls his hips forward and pulls away from their kiss to watch. Lance is a vision, as he throws his head back and moans, thighs shuddering on either side of Keith’s hips. Something takes over Keith and he can’t stop himself from starting up a steady rhythm of rocking their bodies together, feeling himself getting hard in his jeans as well. The entire while, Lance is whining and whimpering, eventually muffled behind his palm as he clamps his own hand over his mouth to quiet himself.  </p>
<p>“God, Lance, you’re <em> mesmerizing. </em>” Keith drawls low, hitching his hips forward a little harsher. </p>
<p>“Mm, that’s a little bit better. Not a choice vocab word, but I’ll accept it.” Lance jibes, grabbing for his hair again, pulling him in for another kiss. Keith licks at his bottom lip before nipping at it, relishing the punched-out gasp in response. Keith can’t really place why, but it almost sounds familiar, like maybe an ex of his made a similar noise.</p>
<p>“Fuck off.”</p>
<p>“Fuck <em> me </em>.” Lance counters, reaching down between them to fumble with Keith’s belt again. Thankfully, he’s clumsy and uncoordinated in his state, and it gives Keith a chance to cool down enough to think again. The realization of what they’re doing and why it’s wrong comes back to him, like a black storm cloud dampening his parade. He catches his breath, watching as Lance grows progressively more frustrated the longer he fiddles with the belt buckle and can’t figure it out.</p>
<p>“Lance.” Keith says eventually, his tone even. Lance looks up with wide eyes, looking disappointed before Keith has even said anything. He must be more aware of the fact they’re doing something impulsive and stupid right now than he’s letting on. “I was serious about what I said before. Not while we’re drunk.”</p>
<p>“Can I at least suck you off?” Lance comes back with, pleadingly poking his bottom lip out. “I’ve been told I’m <em> very </em> skilled with my mouth, I’d take good care of you.”</p>
<p>“As much as I’d love that, it’s not happening tonight.” Keith says gently, leaning in to kiss him again, gentler this time. Surprisingly, Lance doesn’t pull away and act petty like before. He relaxes into it, sighs happily into Keith’s mouth and melts into his chest. They kiss for a while, without any of the crawling desperation burning beneath the embrace. It’s lazy and paced, like they’re taking their time to familiarize themselves with each other.</p>
<p>It seems a little uncharacteristic of Lance to be so calm and quiet, especially after not getting his way.</p>
<p>When Keith pulls away a few minutes later he realizes why, sees how slow Lance’s eyes are slow to blink back open, sluggish and heavy even when they do. He’s adorably out of it, visibly exhausted, the crash of the party hitting him hard now that they’re in a quiet space away from the liveliness.</p>
<p>Keith smiles at him.</p>
<p>“Hey?”</p>
<p>“Mm?”</p>
<p>“Remind me to ask you out tomorrow. Like, on a real date, that doesn’t take place in a pantry.”</p>
<p>“Serious?” Lance seems shocked, for all of his blind confidence in himself. Keith nods his head, grinning impossibly wider, until his cheeks ache from the strain of it. Lance mirrors the expression, albeit with a little less enthusiasm, though the adorable yawn that interrupts him more than makes up for it.</p>
<p>He slumps forward against Keith’s chest and Keith gathers him up in his arms, gently lowering them both down to the ground. For a while, he thinks that Lance has fallen asleep just like that next to him, before the other man makes a point to crawl into his lap and curl up there instead. “Keith?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Remind me to say hell fucking yes, would you?”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>“What the hell, <em> Keith </em>.” Waking up to Shiro’s voice laced with annoyance isn’t a new concept to Keith, it’s happened so many times now he doesn’t even flinch at the hostility directed at him. He just turns away from the source of the noise and grumbles, reaching up to clasp his hands over his ears. Why he was sleeping while sitting upright is a bit of a mystery, and his entire spine aches to protest it, but that’s a problem for conscious Keith to solve. Right now, he wants to sleep.</p>
<p>The only problem is, Shiro seems hell-bent on standing between him and what he wants. His hand has settled on Keith’s shoulder and he’s shaking him none-too-gently, until his head is rocking back against the solid surface behind him with a resounding thud. Keith curses, eyes flying open, hand darting up between them to grab onto Shiro’s shirt and yank him toward his other fist.</p>
<p>But… now that Keith’s eyes are open… he’s stunned into complacency by the complete lack of familiarity to his surroundings. He blinks a few times, just to be sure it isn’t a dream. </p>
<p>“Where am I?”</p>
<p>“A pantry. In my boss’s house. Covered in stolen frozen yogurt.” Shiro informs him in that grating displeased tone, the kind of tone that promises some choice words will be shared the very moment they’re alone together and Shiro can let his anger show for real. Keith furrows his eyebrows together, thinking back to the night before, to the soft laughter and equally soft touches he’d shared with someone, someone important… “Yeah, I don’t have any answers for you either. Care to explain?”</p>
<p>“Ah, fuck.” Keith groans in realization, slapping a hand to his face. “Where’s Lance?”</p>
<p>“Lance? Who’s Lance?”</p>
<p>“You know, Hunk’s friend.” Keith explains, looking around the room. They’d made a right mess of it without realizing the night before, frozen yogurt smeared across the counter and blueberries spilled all over the floor. Fuck, Keith can only imagine the state he’s in. “I was trying to keep an eye on him, but he kept fucking flirting with me and then one thing led to another and-”</p>
<p>“You’re kidding me.” The shocked gasp cuts Keith off and he looks up, just in time to see Hunk disappearing from the doorway. Keith’s entire body protests, but he stumbles to his feet anyway and follows along behind Hunk, lost but following the sound of his voice. Hunk certainly has some pipes on him when he’s pissed about something. “Lance! Did you defile my frozen yogurt machine?! First my fucking table, and now this?! Is<em> nothing </em> sacred to you?!”</p>
<p>Keith follows the source of the racket right back to the living room that’d been filled with guests the night before. Now there’s only the mess left behind and a handful of people scattered across the set of couches. Keith doesn’t see Lance at first, but he hears the whiny grumbled response from the couch.</p>
<p>“Ow, baby’s head hurts, leave me alone.” An arm flings itself over the armrest of the couch, hanging limply there and offering a middle finger in the general direction of Hunk, Keith, and now Shiro as he joins them in the room. Lance doesn’t even make an effort to lift his head and look their way.</p>
<p>“Did you fuck this guy?”</p>
<p>“I don’t fucking know?! Probably!” Lance curses vehemently, as he yanks himself upright to glare in their direction over the back of the couch. His hair is sticking up in every which direction, neck littered with hickeys that Keith distantly remembers giving him. Slowly, Lance’s eyes slide away from glaring at Hunk, trailing over to Keith and lingering there. The scowl slackens slightly like Lance is starting to remember who he is, and Keith can’t help but brighten up and send him a smile.</p>
<p>Then, with a determined nod, Lance looks back to Hunk. “Yep. He sure<em> looks </em>fuckable.”</p>
<p>“And did you involve frozen yogurt in your fucking?”</p>
<p>“Hunk, love of my life, my best buddy, the person I adore more than anyone else in this world.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“I don’t remember a single thing that happened last night.” Lance laughs, a manic little sound. He tilts his head forward, rests it against the cushions of the couch and shakes it. He doesn’t bother to look up again as he continues, in that same deeply amused tone. “I honestly couldn’t tell him apart from a lineup of guys, I don’t even know his <em> name </em>. Your guess is as good as mine as to whether we fucked or not.”</p>
<p>Keith’s smile falls. </p>
<p>“<em> Seriously, Lance </em>?”</p>
<p>“Let’s just move on and forget it ever happened!”</p>
<p>“My poor pantry will never forget the way you defiled it!”</p>
<p>“Look, I’ll buy you a new frozen yogurt machine just to be safe, because if there’s a stupid decision to be made then lord knows drunk me made it.” Lance offers Hunk the most apologetic dimpled smile he seems capable of mustering up and Hunk sighs heavily, relenting and stumbling over to hug his friend. As they embrace, Keith stands to the side and tries to contain the disappointment settled heavy in his chest, bordering on suffocating. Lance… doesn’t remember him? At all?</p>
<p>Of course Keith had known that Lance was drunk, that didn’t slip his mind for a moment. He was the kind of drunk that had him struggling to stay upright, the kind of drunk that made dancing on a balcony seem like a good idea. But drunk enough to forget Keith and the moment they’d shared together?</p>
<p>There’s no denying the way that stings. It cuts deep and wounds Keith in a way he tells himself he’s above, a way he’d never admit to. This is exactly the kind of shit that keeps him from trying to date, the inevitable crippling disappointment when he realizes that he’s <em> always </em> the one that cares more. Just because he never learnt how to show them doesn’t mean he doesn’t <em> have </em>feelings. He has so many feelings they consume him sometimes, make it impossible to speak around them.</p>
<p>Was that really all he was to Lance walking away from this? A stupid decision to be made? </p>
<p>“Well, I’m glad one of us can forget what happened last night.” Keith announces loudly, uncaring for the way the hungover people cringe at the sound of his voice. He turns on his heel, marching toward the door with his features schooled into something harsh and unreadable. He’s not hurt. He’s not. He’s just angry. He expected better, that’s all.</p>
<p>As he walks away, he can hear Lance’s panicked voice behind him.</p>
<p>“Oh, he sounds <em> mad </em>. I must have forgotten something important… what’s his name again?”</p>
<p>
  <em> Fucking idiot. </em>
</p>
<p>Keith doesn’t even look back, if anything he picks up his pace until he’s striding angrily across the lawn in his day-old fussed clothes, looking for all intents and purposes like he’s performing a walk of shame. He doesn’t miss the way Hunk’s neighbors across the road stare, one working on the hedges and the other knees-deep in the soil of their flower garden. Keith gives them the finger. It gets them to look away real fast and he ignores the guilty pang in his chest as he heads toward Shiro’s truck.</p>
<p>“Keith! Wait up!” The voice behind him sounds ragged and out of breath, but if anything it inspires Keith to walk that much faster. Lance is infuriatingly taller than him though, all lean legs, and when Keith tries to climb inside the truck to hide out there, Lance slams his hand down on the door and keeps Keith from opening it. Keith growls at him. “Look, I know I’m an asshole for not remembering what I did, it was clearly something important to you and I don’t mean to shit all over it now. You know they say you’re your most genuine when you’re drunk, without any filter. So maybe drunk me is the real me and sober me is the intoxicated one, bogged down by anxiety and expectations and societal-”</p>
<p>“Would you shut the fuck up?”</p>
<p>“I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry!” Lance blurts out, his voice breaking. As much as he doesn’t want to, had been actively planning on never doing it again… Keith turns to look at Lance. He’s still just as attractive as Keith remembers him being, even up this close and nursing a hangover. Lance himself seems at a loss for words now that Keith is actually meeting his gaze, considering how much he had to say just moments before. </p>
<p>“You’re <em> sorry </em>?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Lance says it completely evenly, a hand coming to rest on Keith’s forearm. Either he’s choosing not to address the venom in Keith’s tone or is braving ahead anyway, but he steps closer rather than further away and doubles down on his words. “I hurt you. It doesn’t matter how or why, I did. I’m sorry. I’m not the kind of guy to turn a blind eye to that. I’m an idiot when I’m drunk, I’m just… I’m really sorry.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Keith blurts, lacking eloquence completely. Lance is giving him these eyes, wide and blue and oh so imploring, a silent plea for forgiveness that speaks even louder than his words. And Keith is helpless to say no. He’s never in his life struggled to hold onto his anger, but there seems to be a first for everything.</p>
<p>“Are we good?” Lance sounds sheepish, like he’s still uncertain where they stand. In all honesty, Keith doesn’t know either. “Our friends are friends and I’d like for us to be friends too, do you think you can forgive me and we can move past this? Pretend it never happened? Start fresh?”</p>
<p>Uncertain as he is, Keith knows he can’t say no to Lance, he’d have to be a far stronger man than he is.</p>
<p>“Sure.” Keith nods, forcing a smile. “I’d like that.”</p>
<p>“Great.” Lance looks overly pleased with the outcome. He extends a hand toward Keith and it takes him a full six seconds to realize what’s being asked of him, to clasp Lance’s hand in his own and give it a formal shake, like they hadn’t been making out and grinding on each other not twelve hours prior. “I’m Lance.”</p>
<p>“Keith.” Keith informs him, though it leaves a sour taste in his mouth to be introducing himself a second time around. Lance seems completely oblivious though, smiling that wide unabashed grin, clearly more than happy to put the past between them. It’s not going to be so easy to let go of for Keith.</p>
<p>“You ready to head out?” Shiro’s voice calls across the yard. Keith whips his head in his direction, watches as he approaches with Keith’s jacket slung over his shoulder. Keith nods slowly, turning back to Lance with an apologetic sort-of shrug. Truth be told, he’s more than happy to get out of this stupid situation. </p>
<p>“I should go.”</p>
<p>“Right, okay. I guess I’ll see you around?” Lance says, as Keith climbs into the truck. It feels useless to placate him with a lie, so Keith simply slams the door and sits himself down. He’s not going to see Lance around. He’s going to go out of his way to never see that beautiful face again, if he can help it. He doesn’t even care if Shiro begs him, next time when he says no he’ll mean it.</p>
<p>Shiro climbs into the truck a few seconds later, tossing Keith his jacket.</p>
<p>The first few minutes of the drive are blissfully silent, though Keith notices Shiro won’t stop looking in his direction, even though he’s attempting to be subtle about it. Eventually, Keith lets out a heavy breath he’d been holding onto just a moment too long. He shrugs his shoulders.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Wanna talk about it?” Shiro asks, surprisingly gentle about it for how angry he’d seemed earlier. Like it or not, he knows how to read Keith, knows when to approach him with teeth bared and hackles raised, and when to coax him out with a gentle hand and promises of comfort. Keith blinks a few times, reaches over to turn the radio up between them.</p>
<p>“Nothing to talk about.” Keith explains. “We’re starting fresh. Pretending it never happened.”</p>
<p>“<em> It </em>?”</p>
<p>“I thought we had a moment. Apparently it was the alcohol talking, not him. Whatever I thought there was between us, is very much dead this morning. So… that’s that.” Keith tries desperately to reign in his indifference, to not let a slither of emotion show in his voice. They’d agreed to forget all about it and he was determined to make sure he was just as unaffected and unbothered as Lance was. He doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to care.</p>
<p>“That’s that.” Shiro repeats, like he’s never heard the phrase in his life. “You know, maybe if you told him, you could jog his memory and remind him-”</p>
<p>“I’m not gonna beg him to want me.” When Keith speaks up now, it’s raw emotion, every bit of it he’d been attempting to hold at bay coming forth at once. It’s hurt and insecure, bitter and hateful, all of the negative things he’s been fighting all morning bubbling over like a sludge of toxicity. “There’ll be other guys. No use losing sleep over an idiot like him.”</p>
<p>“Right.” Shiro doesn’t sound convinced. Keith doesn’t care. It’s not his job to convince him.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Later that night, Keith’s bad mood still persists. He’s tried everything to take his mind off of Lance to no avail, his heart feeling heavy and hurt no matter what he does. He’s miserable, plain and simple, so hard to be around that Shiro had given up entirely and went out to see a movie with Adam, leaving him home alone. And as much as he’d thought that was what he wanted, now that he’s actually alone and letting his sadness catch up to him.. It’s awful.</p>
<p>The disappointment is crippling, consuming, and he can’t escape it no matter how he tries.</p>
<p>When all else fails, he turns to the only person he can think of that might be able to distract him.</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: What are your rates for custom videos now?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: The subscription service not doing it for you? It’s been a while since you’ve asked for anything custom. I was starting to worry you were getting bored of me. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Wanna watch you edge yourself until you cry with the bullet vibe. I’ll give you 500.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: You’re joking, right? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: You’re not joking. Holy shit. You just sent me five hundred dollars. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Fuck, I’m getting hard already just thinking about it. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Thinking about the money or the video?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: You, mostly.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: How you’re gonna watch me torture myself and get off on it, sadistic pervert. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: I’ve had a bad day. Feeling a little chaotic.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Hurry up. I’m horny.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Ever the wordsmith, Red. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: I don’t wanna come until I’m watching you writhe against the sheets thinking about me. I wanna come listening to you whimper and moan, begging me to let you have your release. You’ll love it, won’t you? You love it when someone else takes control and orders you around. You love being an obedient little cockslut.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: You’re getting better at this dirty talk thing, still a little stiff though. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Way more than a little stiff.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Did you just pun me? Fuck, baby, that’s so hot. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: You filming yet?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Yeah, but it’s gonna be a pretty shit video if I keep picking up my phone to check your messages. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Red? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: How much more do I have to pay for a live show?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Not a face reveal, just your body. Wanna watch you touch yourself for me. Please.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Another $500? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Holy shit, Red, I was joking. Take this money back right fucking now. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: No. Wanna spoil you. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: You deserve it. You never disappoint. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: God, I think I’m in love with you, you crazy fucking fool. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: I gotta set up another account without my info on it, gimme a sec. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: I’m so fucking hard right now. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Hurry. </b>
</p>
<p><em> Prettybluekitty: </em> <b> <em>[Link attached]</em> </b></p>
<p>Keith clicks the link almost the second it’s sent to him, and immediately the screen loads in to show him all of that beautiful body in frame, arched up into a pretty bow. Keith licks his lips, fisting his cock eagerly, trying to drink in everything at once. It’s only one-way, thankfully, because Keith isn’t trying to have his identity revealed, nor how absolutely fucking lost to this he is. He’s desperate, face flushed and eyes blown out black with lust, pace animalistic as he fucks his fist.</p>
<p>Leandro doesn’t seem to mourn or even notice the loss of not being able to see Keith, he’s just as eager to show off for a blank screen, completely at home in front of the recording. It’s also a unique torture, seeing how his tan hips stutter whenever he receives a message from Keith and reads through it. And it has Keith sending that many more, typing clumsily with his free hand.</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Fuck, baby, look at you.</b>
</p>
<p>Leandro lets out a pretty keen at that, reaching for something off screen. Keith breaks out into the grin the moment he realizes what’s happening, watches as Leandro fits the bullet vibe back to the head of his cock, holding it there with his palm. His legs kick out, muscles visibly spasming. The noise he makes is downright sinful, loud and drawn-out, absolutely wrecked before they’ve even really started.</p>
<p>Keith swallows hard.</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: That’s it, touch yourself for me. Don’t hold back, I wanna hear you.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Turn it up. The highest setting.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Don’t be shy now. Spread your legs, let me see how well you take your fingers.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Such a tease.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Keep that up and you’re gonna make me come.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Slut.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: You like that? You like being called a slut? My little slut, so eager to please.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: No, not yet. I want you to beg for it.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: You’re so pretty when you cry, angel.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Go ahead. You can let go. You earned it. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: Did you honest to god just send me more money the second I closed the stream? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: Consider it a tip for a job very well done.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: At least tell me you’re not going to miss it. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t want to spend every cent you own and leave you homeless in the name of horny.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: I won’t miss it. There’s more where that came from.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prettybluekitty: God, a guy could get used to being treated like this. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Redwolf19: I’m counting on it.</b>
</p>
<p>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks so much for reading! I imagine I'll be posting the next part in about a week?? So stay tuned for updates.</p>
<p>Now, on another note: I did do a LOT of research on tattoo artistry as a career, tattoo healing times, piercing healing times, etc etc beyond just my general interest and experience with them. BUT if any of you are better educated and notice something small that needs tweaking, point it out! If, however, the ENTIRE plot is inaccurate, please dont tell me bc im not changing it at that point im too committed</p>
<p>Okay that's all!!! Thanks for reading!!! So happy to finally be feeding the daddy kink community bc I think it's one base I haven't really touched in the klance fandom. Don't worry, kinkies, im coming for all of you eventually.</p>
<p>social medias;<br/>@melancholymango is my main twitter/tumblr<br/>@redgaysonly is my nsfw fandom twitter</p></blockquote></div></div>
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